Hannah's Joy (12 page)

William’s jaw tensed. They both knew full well that Isaac had plenty of help for that job from his sons. And if William was ever going to speak up, this would be a good time.

“I-I-I’m b-b-busy.” He tried to remind himself again of how to approach the words, but it seemed to do no good when his jaw was clenched tight.

Isaac wheeled toward him. “What?”

“B-b-busy.” He took a breath, trying to ease his throat muscles. “Caleb h-has t-t-to go s-s-someplace Monday. I-I’m watching the shop.”

Better, that was better. All he had to do was remember what he’d been practicing.

Isaac frowned for a moment. “Well, I guess you can’t let him down, if he’s counting on you. But Tuesday for sure.”

“I h-have my m-meeting w-with Hannah.”

Isaac reddened under his tan, and he looked as if he controlled himself with an effort. “It’s time you gave up on that foolishness. You don’t need to change yourself.”

“I-I-I . . .” He seemed to choke on the words he wanted to say. Now was not the time for his lessons to desert him.

“I knew you’d understand.” Isaac clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll see. This is for the best, and that is what I told Hannah Conroy.”

“You d-did what?”

“I went to see that . . . Hannah Conroy last night. I explained that these lessons weren’t gut for you. I’m sure she understood.”

“How could you d-do that?” It seemed anger worked even better in helping him get the words out. Isaac had gone to Hannah behind his back, as if he were a child.

Isaac took a step back, his hand dropping from William’s shoulder. The slanting sunlight made his face even ruddier.

“You are my little bruder. I must take care of you, ain’t so? I can’t let you—”

William turned away, not wanting to hear any more. Not wanting to hear Isaac compare his friendship with Hannah to his mistaken infatuation for Rachel. Worse, if he tried to tell Isaac what he thought, he’d end up a stammering, incoherent mess.

He strode quickly toward the stable, praying that Isaac wouldn’t attempt to follow him. He could hitch up the buggy and be in town in fifteen minutes or so.

It wasn’t until he was on the road that doubts began to creep into his mind. What if Isaac was right, and these sessions didn’t help at all? What if he was kidding himself that he’d ever be able to speak well? He certainly had failed at this effort to speak his mind. Maybe it would always be that way.

Worse, what if Hannah had accepted Isaac’s demands? Isaac could be intimidating, and Hannah might just want to keep peace in the community.

He was on the outskirts of town, and he slowed the pace at which he’d been driving the animal. His first thought had been that he had to see Hannah, to tell her not to heed whatever nonsense Isaac had told her.

Now that he was nearly there, it wondered him what exactly he could say. The mare seemed to sense his indecision, turning her head to look at him. Well, he was here now, and he wouldn’t go away without setting this straight. “Step up, Bess.”

In a few minutes he was pulling into the alley beside the bakery. He slid down and tied the mare to the hitching rail. It was well past closing time, so they were probably upstairs. He went to the back door that opened onto the kitchen stairway and rang the bell.

He heard someone coming. Hannah, he realized, recognizing her footsteps. She opened the door and stood looking at him.

“We h-have t-to talk.”

She nodded as if she’d been expecting him. “Come into the bakery kitchen. It’s quiet there. My aunt is playing a game with Jamie.”

It must be a tickling game, judging from the squeals and giggles coming from upstairs. He followed Hannah into the room where they usually met, and she gestured for him to close the door.

It was warm in the kitchen, heat still radiating from the big gas ovens. Hannah faced him, strain evident in her face.

Had Isaac upset her that much? A fresh surge of anger went through him, and he tried to conquer it.

“I kn-kn-know I-Isaac came and talked to you. I’m s-sorry.”

Hannah blinked, as if she had to refocus her thoughts. “Yes. He did.” She put her hand up to her cheek, as if she needed comforting. “Did he tell you what it was about?”

William felt a frown wrinkle his forehead. “A-about our l-lessons, ja?”

“That.” She took a breath, pressing her lips together as if she didn’t want to say anything more. “And the fact that we met privately behind the fire hall Wednesday night. He made it sound as if we . . .” She let that trail off.

His hands clenched into fists, but for Hannah’s sake, he must take it lightly. “That’s f-foolishness. If h-he saw us or s-someone else t-told him, it’s s-still silly.”

“That’s what I thought. I told him it was perfectly innocent. I don’t know if he believed me.” But there was still a question in her eyes.

“D-doesn’t matter,” he said, forcing the words out. “I am a g-grown man. I d-decide for myself.”

She smiled, her expression lightening a little. “I told him that, too.”

“Gut.” The anger slid away, and he smiled at her. As long as Hannah knew how to take it, he didn’t care what Isaac said.

But the worry wasn’t gone from her face. The skin around her eyes seemed to be stretched tight. She’d already been upset when she came to the door. But if not because of Isaac, then what?

“Hannah?” He reached out, wanting to touch her to ease the strain, but drew back. “Was ist letz?”

“Nothing.” She stopped, looking uncertain. “Well, that’s not quite true. I had a call that upset me. From Travis’s father.”

“Is h-he all r-right?” She hadn’t mentioned her husband’s family. He’d had the idea they weren’t in the picture.

“Oh, he’s fine. Just angry.” Her hands twisted together. “He’s angry because I’m living here. Can you believe it? He has the idea that because Mennonites believe in nonviolence, they will condemn Jamie’s father for being a soldier.” Her lips trembled, and she put her hand up to hide them.

“That’s n-not so. No one w-would.”

“I know. That’s what I told him, but he wouldn’t listen. He said . . . he said I wasn’t a good mother if I brought Jamie up here.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, unconsciously moving as if she held her babe in her arms. William felt as if he’d been punched in the heart by her pain.

“You are ser gut as a m-mammi. Everyone kn-knows th-that.” Unable to hold back any longer, he took her twisting hands, and wrapped them in his. “D-does Paula know about this?”

Paula Schatz was a strong woman who understood the world better than most. She’d do anything to protect Hannah and Jamie.

“I . . . I tried to keep her from hearing the worst of it. I didn’t want her to worry.” Hannah shook her head, but tears spilled over onto her cheeks anyway. “It was Megan who told him that nonsense. My friend, reporting to him behind my back.”

A sob caught in her words. He seemed to feel her pain and disappointment, as if the betrayal had hurt him, too.

“Don’t, Hannah. D-don’t hurt so.” He couldn’t stand it. He drew her into his arms, wrapping them around her so that she was enclosed in his embrace.

She buried her face in his chest, and he felt the tears soaking into his shirt. Sobs shook her body, and all he could do was pat her and whisper soothing words, his cheek against her hair.

Hannah wept helplessly, clinging to him, for several moments. Then the sobs lessened and she straightened, as if becoming aware of who she was holding on to.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, sniffling a little. “I shouldn’t let myself cry.” She drew back, looking into his face.

They were very close—so close he could feel her breath on his skin. Her eyes seemed to widen in a question, and then to grow darker, the golden brown turning to chocolate.

“William?” It was soft, questioning, and it touched his heart.

He couldn’t stop. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and found her lips with his.

Her arms were already around him, but now they tightened as she held him as tightly as he held her. Her lips were soft, sweet, and kissing her was like coming home, home to a place he’d never known.

He didn’t want to end it, ever. But he had to. Slowly he pulled back from her. Hannah’s expression was bemused, as if she didn’t quite know what had happened, but a trace of a smile lingered on her lips, and she lifted her fingers to touch them.

The enormity of what he’d done hit him with nearly enough force to knock him off his feet. “I-I-I am s-sorry,” he stammered. He blundered toward the door and came close to running outside.

He’d been wrong. He didn’t just care what happened to Hannah. He was falling in love with her. And that could lead to nothing but heartbreak.

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

F
rom
where she sat in the churchhouse, Hannah could see Aunt Paula seated on the left, closer to the front. There was logic, as well as tradition, in the seating arrangements in the plain, simple churchhouse. Older men sat on the right front, facing the ministers’ bench, while older women sat on the left. The rest of the community filled in the benches in the center, women and girls on one side, men and boys on the other.

Hannah sat with other young mothers, and they were quick to help each other. Warm smiles and comforting pats soothed fretful little ones, and for the most part, the babies and toddlers were quiet throughout the two-hour service.

Hannah snuggled Jamie against her. He was nearly asleep, and she watched his eyes drift shut.

The bishop was giving the long sermon today, and she focused on his face, weathered and kindly. At first she’d come to worship because Aunt Paula just assumed that she would. She’d gradually grown to value the peace she found in this plain, simple space, to find herself turning to God more and more often, like a child turned to a parent. Unfortunately that peace she usually felt was eluding her today.

Concentrate on the sermon, she ordered herself. Shut out other thoughts and worries—things like Robert’s attitude, Megan’s betrayal, William’s kiss. Her breath caught, and she prayed her cheeks weren’t red at the very thought of it.

It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. William was attracted to her, maybe, and maybe she felt the same. He was strong and kind and she’d selfishly leaned on that strength in a weak moment when she felt bombarded on all sides.

But it wouldn’t be fair to William to let him imagine there could be a romantic relationship between them. Somehow, she’d have to find a way of being sure he understood that.

The bishop’s wise, reasoned sermon on the love of God drew to a close. Two other ministers spoke briefly from their seats on the ministers’ bench, endorsing the bishop’s views. And then they all slid from the benches to their knees for a prayer.

As if realizing Hannah might not be as practiced at kneeling while holding a sleeping toddler, the woman next to her took her elbow and helped her. Hannah gave her a smile of thanks as they bowed their heads.

A few minutes later, they were all on their way out of the churchhouse, cheerful voices raised in greeting and conversation. Hannah had the feeling that no one would think to leave until they’d greeted everyone, even a relative outsider like herself.

Jamie, of course, woke up the minute she’d walked outside, and he clamored to get down. She set him on the grass but kept a careful grip on his hand as she scanned the crowd for Aunt Paula.

“Ach, this little boy wants to run off some energy, ain’t so?”

The bishop, Ephraim Zimmerman, bent to ruffle Jamie’s hair. As he straightened, he beckoned to several teenage girls who were talking, heads together, probably about boys to judge by the way their glances drifted in the direction of a cluster of youths not far away.

The girls came quickly in answer to the bishop’s summons, faces apprehensive, as if Bishop Ephraim had seen their interest.

“Mary and Anna, you will take little Jamie to play in the grass for a bit, ja? Give his mammi a chance to visit.”

“Ja, sure.” They looked relieved, nodding quickly. The older of the two gave Hannah a shy smile, while the other knelt, speaking to Jamie and holding out her hands.

With a babbled response that might have meant anything, Jamie lunged toward her. Then, chortling, he trotted across the grass as fast as his chubby legs would carry him, with the two girls in hot pursuit.

“Denke,” Hannah said, using the Pennsylvania Dutch word for thanks. “That was thoughtful of you.”

“My wife has taught me the value of a little break for our young mothers,” he said, his gaze searching her face. “And you were looking troubled in worship this morning, Hannah.”

She started to say that she was fine, but the words died on her lips. He was looking at her as if he saw into her heart, and she suspected he would know in an instant if she didn’t tell the truth.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should be able to leave my worries behind when I come to worship.”

He considered. “True, but if they won’t be left behind, it’s best to bring them to the Lord. Is there something that I can do? Or my wife?” He smiled, his gaze seeming automatically to search out his wife, a dumpling of a woman with white hair and rosy cheeks who reminded Hannah of Mrs. Claus, although she certainly wouldn’t say so.

“I don’t think so, but I’m grateful for the offer. It’s hard, sometimes, to know what is best to do. Especially when you feel pulled in opposite directions, as I am.” She hoped the oblique answer would satisfy him.

“Ja, I can see that. This life must be much different from what you’ve been used to.” Again that searching look touched her face.

That was certainly true, but it wasn’t the surface differences that troubled her. “It’s certainly brought back the memories of my childhood here.”

“Ja, it would.” He smiled slightly. “I married your mammi and daadi, did you know that?”

She was startled, but it wasn’t so surprising, was it? Thirty years wasn’t long in a community like this one. “No, I didn’t know. After we left here, my mother didn’t talk about the past.”

“It grieved me when they left us.” He shook his head, lines deepening in his face. “I feared we had failed them.”

“They weren’t happy.” The words were out before she could censor them. “They thought they wanted a different place, but it didn’t bring happiness.”

“For you most of all,” Bishop Ephraim said quietly. “And now you are stuck between the two worlds, not sure where you belong.”

“Yes.”

That was exactly right. Where was the belonging and the security that she was looking for? Or was she destined to be eternally dissatisfied, as her parents had been?

“Your aunt wants you to stay, ja? To become part of our lives here and mend the place that was broken when her sister went away.”

Hannah couldn’t tell him about Travis’s father, with his prejudiced reaction to Mennonites. And she certainly couldn’t tell him about William. But the bishop had put his finger on exactly what troubled her about her relationship with Aunt Paula.

“I’m not sure I can be what she wants.”

Her eyes followed Jamie. One of the girls was swinging him around, and he was giggling, looking happy, content, as if he belonged. That was what she wanted for him. But was that unfair to Travis’s memory?

“Your aunt is a strong woman. She will accept whatever you decide.” The bishop paused. “You are part of our community by birth, Hannah. You will always be welcome here, whatever you choose.”

“Denke,” she said again. “Thank you.”

He smiled, nodded, and took a step away, and someone else came to greet him. She realized that people had tacitly accepted his conversation with her, careful not to interrupt until he’d signaled he was finished.

Bishop Ephraim was a wise man, and a kind one. Even though she hadn’t felt able to tell him everything that troubled her, he’d helped her toward a measure of understanding.

It wasn’t fair to keep Aunt Paula hanging. She had to give her an answer about the partnership. She just wasn’t sure what that answer should be.

*   *   *

William
glanced toward the bakery as he drove the buggy down Main Street on Monday morning. Then, as quickly, he looked away, afraid he might see Hannah. Or maybe afraid she might see him.

He had to deal with the situation. He should have told Hannah how sorry he was after their kiss, not walked off like a dumb lump. What did she think of him now? He didn’t even want to guess.

He’d failed with Isaac. There were no two ways about that. His confidence in his ability to speak had vanished, blown away like a leaf in the wind.

And he’d failed with Hannah. She’d been hurting. She’d needed comfort from a friend, not . . .

He pushed the thought away vigorously and turned the horse into the alley that led to the stable behind Caleb’s shop. It was time to put that mistake behind him and get on with the business at hand. There was something he’d been wanting to talk to Caleb about, and today was as good a time as any.

In a few minutes he’d unharnessed the horse and turned it into the small paddock where both Caleb’s and Katie’s buggy horses stood side by side. They whickered a welcome, for all the world as if they were greeting an old friend.

William went in the back, as he usually did when he came to work, just as glad that he didn’t have to go out on the street again.

Caleb stood at the counter, showing something to young Becky Brand, his niece, who sometimes minded the shop.

“William, it is gut that you are here. I was just telling Becky to call you if anyone has a question she can’t answer. She’ll stay and take care of the shop while you are working.”

“S-ser g-gut.” He nodded to Becky, relieved that she’d be there to wait on any customers. Becky was a sweet girl, just sixteen and best friend to Katie’s sister.

Becky dived behind the counter and came up with a dust cloth. “I will start with cleaning the display. If you want me to go for coffee later, Cousin William, just let me know.”

He nodded, not sure how to reply. Everyone was used to him going for coffee in midmorning. What would Hannah think if he didn’t come? Maybe she’d be relieved.

“Let’s go up to the workshop, and I’ll show you what’s ready to work on.” Caleb started up the stairs, with William following.

When they reached the workshop, William put the letter he’d been carrying onto the workbench in front of Caleb, along with the list he’d made.

Caleb, giving him a puzzled glance, picked it up. “Is this for me?”

“Not e-exactly.” William reminded himself to keep his breathing easy. He’d rehearsed what he would say. “You w-were saying that t-trade falls off i-in the winter. I thought m-maybe you’d want to see if s-some stores in the bigger towns w-w-would take pieces on c-consignment.”

Caleb studied the list William had made, including all the furniture stores in the county. The letter describing what Caleb and William had to offer had taken more time to compose, but he’d enjoyed writing it. It was so much easier to express himself that way than with speech.

Caleb didn’t respond right away, but William hadn’t expected him to. Caleb was one who thought before making a decision. Finally he looked up.

“You did all this on your own?” He gestured with the papers.

“Ja. I-if you th-think I shouldn’t h-have—”

“No, no. I’m impressed.” He grinned. “I think it’s a fine idea, William. You’re right. We do need more outlets for our work. And we won’t lose anything by trying, ja?”

Relief swept through William, making him realize how tense he’d been about presenting his idea. “Ja,” he said.

Caleb clapped him on the shoulder. “Gut. We will do it.” He paused, giving William a long, steady look. “Was ist letz? You look like something else is on your mind.”

William shrugged. He couldn’t say anything to anyone about what had happened with Hannah. That was private, and he’d have to reveal too much that wasn’t his to tell. But Caleb already knew about the situation with his brother, and in a way, he was already involved.

“Isaac. L-like always.”

“What is it now?” Frowning, Caleb moved to the workbench where a rocking chair was in progress. “He’s not happy with you working here?”

“N-not exactly.” William picked up one of the spindles for the rocking chair, turning it over in his hand. “He j-just wants m-me to be there when he w-wants me.”

And he wanted William to give up on working with Hannah on his speech. Why? What did it matter to him? Just his natural tendency to dislike anything he hadn’t thought of? Or was it something else?

Caleb’s frown deepened. “I’m sorry he’s taking your working here this way.”

Maybe it was time William asked the question that had been lingering in the back of his mind. “You r-really n-need me, ain’t so?”

Caleb understood almost at once what he was really asking. “I didn’t offer you the job just to put a spoke in Isaac’s wheel. Or because I don’t always like the way he treats you.” He gestured at the workbenches, the projects in various stages of completion. “You do gut work, William. This is your gift, I think.”

Rachel had said something similar, but it meant a lot, coming from Caleb. “Denke.”

“Ja.” Caleb’s expression grew serious. “It’s certain-sure I need you. But is this really what you want? You can tell me the truth. If you’re missing the farm and you’d rather be there . . .” He let that fade off, studying William’s face as if he could read the answer there.

William leaned against the bench, trying to think how to respond. “I-if the f-farm had komm to me, I w-would not have thought of a-anything else.”

An Amish person would not say that one job was better than another, so long as both were done to the glory of God, but most folks felt in their hearts that farming was best.

Caleb nodded his understanding. “If your father had lived longer it would be different.”

“Ja. B-but now I can do what c-calls to me.” He ran his fingers along the curve of the spindle. “That i-is the wood.”

“That’s what I thought.” Caleb nodded, seeming satisfied. He paused. Then he cleared his throat. “Do you want me to talk to Isaac? I will, if you want.”

The temptation was strong to say yes. So strong.

But if he let Caleb speak for him, he wasn’t behaving like a man.

“Denke, Caleb. But I w-will s-speak to him myself.”

*   *   *

Aunt
Paula sank into her chair with a sigh she probably wished she could hide. Monday had been a long day, and as much as Hannah and the others tried to keep Paula off her feet, she evaded them.

Hannah shoved the footstool over to her. “Your ankle is paining you. I can see that. Please, prop it up for a while, and I’ll get some ice.”

She was prepared for an argument, but it didn’t come. Aunt Paula meekly put her ankle up, shaking her head a little.

“I am too stubborn, ja? I should have listened to you and Naomi.”