Hannah's Joy (19 page)

“My aunt will be so pleased. Thank you, Bishop Ephraim.”

He nodded, but she didn’t think his mind was on the apples.

“We Anabaptists believe that God has called us not to return evil for evil, but to overcome evil with good. We know the life to which God has called us. But we can still live in amity with our neighbors, accepting that they may hear God’s message differently.”

He’d said it much better than she ever could. “I wish my father-in-law could understand and accept that difference.”

“Ja. Your father-in-law must see that you honor and respect him, but he cannot pressure you to go away from your home.”

The bishop picked up the basket, forestalling her effort to take it.

“Some of these apples are destined for the cider press,” he said. “They make fine cider.” He paused. “Pressing is all right for apples,” he said, “but not for people. Not for you, Hannah.”

*   *   *

Despite
the fact that so many of the residents didn’t have telephones, whispers went around Pleasant Valley at the speed of light, William sometimes thought. By closing time on Saturday afternoon, three different people had managed to drop the news that the Mennonite bishop had spoken to Hannah today.

The knowledge nibbled at William, keeping him from concentrating. When the joint he was gluing slipped for the third time, Caleb took the pieces from his hands.

“Go and see Hannah, then,” he said, “before you glue yourself to the chair.”

William looked at him, assessing the expression in his cousin’s face. “I thought y-you felt m-my feelings for H-Hannah were a mistake.”

“Ach, what does my opinion matter? Even a friend would go to see if she’s all right, ja?” Caleb slapped his shoulder. “Go on, now. Have supper with us later, ja? We’re going to get pizza.”

“Denke.” William headed for the sink to wash up. At least he and Caleb were still friends.

A few minutes later he was walking quickly down the street to the bakery. They’d be closing, as well, so maybe he could have a quiet word with Hannah, just to be sure she was all right.

Bishop Ephraim was a fair man. Surely he wouldn’t blame Hannah for whatever talk her father-in-law was stirring up. Still, if he felt it reflected on Hannah’s commitment to the church, it would make her situation even more difficult.

When had it started, this need he felt to pick up her burdens for her? He always wanted to help folks, of course. That was part of his nature, as well as his faith. But it was different with Hannah. It went far beyond wanting. He needed to share her burdens. It was what he’d been put here to do.

The Closed sign was already on the bakery door, but it wasn’t locked. He tapped lightly and opened the door.

“C-can I come in?”

“William, for sure you can.” Paula was on her way to the kitchen with a tray of dishes. “Hannah will help you.” She pushed on through the swinging door.

He turned to Hannah, who was emptying the display case, but before he could say anything, Jamie ran to him and grabbed his leg.

“H-help, my leg is trapped by a b-bear.” He bent down, catching Jamie and sweeping him up in the air. “Ach, no. N-not a bear. An eagle.”

Jamie giggled and squealed. “More, more!”

William obliged, flying him across the room, loving the sound of the boy’s laughter. When Jamie was breathless and limp with giggles, William brought the boy down for a landing against his chest.

“More,” Jamie demanded.

“You always want more,” Hannah said, coming around the counter to tickle Jamie’s chin. “No more roughhousing this close to supper. Go get your train. Show William how the choo-choo goes.”

William set him on his feet, and Jamie trotted across the room toward the basket of toys in the far corner.

“I hope I didn’t r-rile him up too much.” He straightened, studying her face for any clue to what had happened with the bishop.

“He loves it,” she said. “I think he understands already that . . .” She stopped, as if not wanting to complete that sentence.

“Every b-boy needs a man in his life,” he said carefully.

She nodded. “I thought his grandfather might help fill that gap, but Robert . . .” She shook her head. “He doesn’t seem to know how. Jamie got shortchanged in the grandfather department.” As if needing to keep her hands busy, Hannah straightened the chairs around the closest table.

“Maybe R-Robert c-could use some encouragement.” He helped her with the chairs. “Your f-father isn’t around at all?”

“I haven’t heard from him since he left when I was thirteen.” A shadow touched her face. “I didn’t even know how to let him know when my mother died.”

“I’m sorry.” William’s heart hurt for her. “Sometimes when p-people leave the church, they j-just get lost.”

That was as good a way as any to put it, he guessed. It was a serious thing, to leave the support and love of the community. Maybe Hannah’s father hadn’t realized how much he had counted on that until it was too late.

He looked down at the chair he was pushing in. Would he be able to do that? If he had the chance to marry Hannah, would he be able to leave?

His fingers tightened on the chair back. Since he wasn’t likely to be given that chance, he’d best not waste time thinking about it. Right now Hannah needed a friend, and that he could offer.

“I hear y-you talked to the b-bishop today.”

Jamie hurried back to him, clutching the locomotive in his hand, and began running it along the table’s edge. William squatted next to him, making sound effects while he watched Hannah’s face for clues.

“Word spread, I guess. I might have known that it would.” But she was smiling a little, and his heart eased. “Bishop Ephraim wanted to give me a bushel of apples for my aunt. And he added a few words of support as well.”

“That’s gut.” William didn’t realize how relieved he felt until she said it. “I was afraid—”

“I was, too.” She smiled at him, and his heart seemed to turn over. “He understood. He said I could honor and respect my father-in-law and still do what I feel is right.”

“And you’re s-sure now what that is?” He stood, the locomotive still in his hand until Jamie snatched it away.

“We belong here.” She met his gaze, her brown eyes steady. “I think I didn’t realize how much this place and my faith mean to me until Robert challenged my decision. Then I knew in my heart this is right.”

“I am g-glad.” He put his hand over hers where it rested on the chair back.

For an instant she looked startled. Then she turned her hand, very deliberately, so that it clasped his.

Warmth and caring seemed to flow between them through their linked hands. Hope welled up in him. He leaned toward her, forgetting where they were, disregarding everything except the longing to touch her, hold her—

“Will!” Jamie shoved the locomotive at him. “Up, Will, up!”

Hannah blinked, as if rousing from a dream, and then smiled. “Somebody wants you.”

“Ach, I a-am right here, l-little one.” He had to let go of Hannah’s hand to pick Jamie up, but that was okay. He loved the boy, too, and not just because he was part of Hannah. “Here we go.” He hoisted him to his shoulder, feeling the warmth of Hannah’s gaze on them. “How i-is that?”

The door slammed open, its bell clanging as if out of control. Robert Conroy stalked into the shop, his gaze focused on them.

What did he see? Someone else standing in the place that should have been occupied by his son?

“Robert.” Hannah smoothed her apron. “I didn’t think you were coming by.”

“I see that.” His voice had an edge. “I came to tell you something. To give you fair warning.”

William could almost feel the shiver that went through Hannah. She took a step closer to him.

Conroy’s eyes narrowed at that unconscious, betraying movement. “I’ve been to Harrisburg to meet with an attorney. He’s agreed to take my case.”

“Attorney?” Hannah echoed the word, probably as confused as William felt.

“You have until Monday,” Conroy said. “If I don’t hear by then that you’re leaving this place and bringing up my grandson the way you should, I’m filing for custody.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He just slammed back out of the door.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

H
annah
stood stunned, unable to move. To speak. Worst of all, to think. Her mind had been swept clean of every thought but one.

Robert intended to take her child.

“No.” The word ripped from her throat.

“Hannah.” William’s hand gripped her arm. “You muscht stoppe. Think. H-he can’t take Jamie.”

His grasp was firm. Strong. It steadied her. Hannah sucked in a strangled breath, then another. She couldn’t panic. Now, of all times, she had to be in control.

The kitchen door swung. Aunt Paula and Naomi rushed toward her. Arms closed around her. She was surrounded by love, warmth, support.

“We heard.” Her aunt choked on a sob. “It can’t be right. He can’t do that.”

“Ja,” Naomi murmured. “Surely he cannot take Jamie away.”

Hannah looked up. Jamie still sat on William’s shoulders, gripping William’s hair, his little face puckering as if he’d cry, even though he couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about.

William, seeming to read her thoughts, lifted Jamie from his shoulders and put him into her arms.

The weight of that small little body sent fierce love surging through Hannah. She held him close, feeling his breath against her neck when he snuggled.

“It is all r-right. No one will t-take him from you.” William patted her arm.

Please, Father. Help me to be calm. Guide me to do the right thing. Please, keep my baby safe.

Realizing she was leaning against William, she drew away a step. She had to be strong, for Jamie.

“What can the man be thinking of? Is he crazy, to say such a thing? The law would not let him take Jamie.” Aunt Paula fussed, but Hannah knew there was fear behind the words.

“I don’t know.” It took an effort to keep her voice steady, but Hannah managed. “I wouldn’t think so either, but if a lawyer agreed . . .”

She let that trail off, not wanting to voice the words. The lawyer must think there was a case, or why would he or she agree?

“You must talk this over,” Naomi said. “Not here, where anyone can look in the window and see. Upstairs, ja? I will finish down here.”

Hannah nodded, glancing toward the plate-glass windows. Naomi was right. She didn’t want to give the community anything else to gossip about.

“Komm.” William put his arm around her and Jamie, urging her toward the steps. “Naomi is right.”

Going up the stairs felt like climbing a mountain. If not for the support of William’s arm, she wasn’t sure she’d make it.

There she was, relying on him again. She shouldn’t do that, but she couldn’t seem to help it.

“In the kitchen.” Once they were upstairs, Aunt Paula took over. “Jamie will be hungry, and you must have something, Hannah. Nice hot tea is gut for shock. And something sweet to eat, also. That will help you think.”

Hannah had a feeling it would take more than that, but she let herself be shepherded into the kitchen. Aunt Paula bustled around, taking refuge from her own fears by feeding people, which was always her first reaction.

William leaned against the counter, watching Hannah. She suspected he’d be by her side if she showed any sign of weakness.

Aunt Paula thrust a mug of tea in front of her and watched her until she sipped it. It scalded her mouth, but it warmed her, too.

Jamie climbed up into his booster chair without being told, and Aunt Paula put toast triangles in front of him.

“I don’t understand,” her aunt said. “Why does Robert want to do this? He can’t imagine he’d be a better parent than you are.”

Hannah pressed her fingers against her temples. “He’s barely even interacted with Jamie.”

“H-he is trying to m-make you afraid. So you’ll d-do what he wants.”

She nodded. William had it right. That was undoubtedly what was in Robert’s mind. “He wants to make me leave Pleasant Valley. Leave the church. Live the way he imagines Travis would want.”

“Ach, the man is ferhoodled.” Aunt Paula sat down abruptly, as if her legs wouldn’t hold her up any longer. “He doesn’t want Jamie. He is blinded by the need to control everything.”

“He f-feels guilty,” William said. “That is it, I th-think. He w-wishes he had been a better f-father, so he’s trying to m-make up for that.”

Hannah focused on William’s words. He was seeing the situation clearly. Robert was driven by guilt as much as anything.

“Well, if he thinks Travis would want that boy taken away from his mammi, he’s crazy, like I said.” Aunt Paula’s voice was tart with worry and fear.

“You m-must get a l-lawyer, too,” William said abruptly.

The advice sounded strange, coming from an Amishman, but Aunt Paula was already nodding.

“Ja, William is right. I know, we don’t sue people, but this is different. He is going against you, and you must have a lawyer to defend yourself.”

“It will be so expensive. And so ugly to be defending myself in court. If Robert would only listen . . .”

“Well, he won’t,” Aunt Paula said, her eyes snapping. “You’ve tried, and he won’t listen. We must protect Jamie.”

We. She had family now. People who loved her and would do their best to protect her and Jamie.

But to go to court . . . What if she lost? Her heart nearly stopped.

“There i-is the l-lady who helped Sarah,” William said.

“Ach, ja, that’s so,” Aunt Paula exclaimed. “Sarah, the midwife. When the doctor in town tried to make her stop delivering babies, the lady lawyer took her case. She is just the one.”

“I don’t . . .” Hannah wanted to say she’d think about it. Try to figure out some other way. But in her heart she knew it was no use. Robert wouldn’t agree to her plans, so there was nothing else to be done.

Except give in. Give up. Take Jamie away from all that was familiar and try to start over again somewhere else.

“I will go to Sarah.” William pushed himself away from the counter. “To g-get the n-name and n-number of the woman.”

“Denke, William.” Aunt Paula nodded. “That’s right. It’s the only thing to do.”

William was already heading for the stairs.

“I probably won’t even be able to talk to the woman before Monday, and that’s Robert’s deadline.”

“All the more reason for William to go right away,” her aunt said.

Hannah tried to force a smile, but she couldn’t. The truth was that William probably needed to get out of here, and this was a good reason to go.

Something had begun between them. They both knew that. But it was still small and fragile, and all of this pressure was too much, too soon.

William turned at the top of the stairs. “It will be all right. Y-you’ll see.” Then he hurried down, disappearing from her view.

*   *   *

Anxiety
sat next to William on the buggy seat as he drove the few miles to the birthing center. This was a small thing he could do to help Hannah in her trouble—maybe even a needless thing. Hannah or her aunt could have called Sarah to ask for the information, since the birthing center did have a telephone.

Still, going himself gave him the chance to impress upon Sarah how serious the situation was. Hannah, not knowing Sarah, might feel uncomfortable pushing her to contact the attorney on her behalf. William had no such reserve. He’d do whatever he had to do if it got Hannah the help he needed to keep Jamie safe.

Jamie—it seemed he could still feel the boy’s weight on his shoulders, hear the gurgle of his laughter. No one should have the right to take Jamie away from those who loved him.

The lane came up faster than he’d thought. The mare must have caught his tension through his handling of the lines. The buggy reached the hitching rail and William jumped down, tossing the line over the rail and hurrying to the door.

This old house had probably seen plenty of people rushing in, filled with anxiety over a baby that was coming. His errand might be different, but it was still about a child’s safety.

The door swung open as he approached, and Aaron looked at him in surprise. “William. I was about to say that Sarah was fetching her bag, but you’re not here to call the midwife, are you?”

“No, but I do need to see Sarah.”

Aaron waved him in. “Komm, please. We’ll be having supper in a little bit. You’re wilkom to join us.”

He should answer, but his attention was focused on Sarah, just coming into the room.

She looked at him questioningly, maybe reading him better than Aaron did. Sarah always seemed so calm and composed . . . probably that was an asset for a midwife, where nervous parents were concerned.

“Komm, sit down, William. Was ist letz? Tell us about it.”

He shook his head to the offer of a chair and instead stood, grasping its back with both hands. “I w-won’t s-stay long.” He took a shallow breath, remembering all Hannah’s teachings. “H-Hannah needs help. Her f-father-in-law h-has gotten a lawyer.” It was easier, once he’d started. “He threatens t-to take Jamie away.”

There was a shocked exclamation from Aaron behind him.

“Hannah is a g-gut mammi. But he doesn’t approve of P-Plain folks. Or our b-beliefs. He’s trying to f-force Hannah to leave. Hannah needs a l-lawyer. I thought of th-the one who h-helped you. W-will you call her?”

Understanding filled Sarah’s face. “Ja, of course. She is a fine attorney.”

“Gut. But it m-must be right away. He gave H-Hannah only until Monday. We can’t w-wait.”

Sarah shot a glance at Aaron. William knew he was giving away his feelings with every word, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Sarah act now.

“I’ll call right now.” Sarah moved quickly to the door, heading for the phone shanty Aaron had built for her on the porch. “I just hope she’s not gone away for the weekend. If I get her, I’ll ask her to call Hannah immediately.” She looked again at Aaron. “Why don’t you see if William will have something to eat or drink while he waits?”

“I don’t need—” he began, but Aaron was already pouring a glass of lemonade.

“Have it anyway, or Sarah will fuss.” He took a couple of hand-size molasses cookies from the jar on the counter and put them in front of William. “This is my job now when anxious daads come to the door. I keep them calm while Sarah gets ready.”

William took a bite and discovered he was hungry. “It m-must be crazy when a c-couple of bopplis d-decide to komm at once.”

Aaron grinned. “That’s when I head to the workshop and stay out of the way.”

Footsteps drew William’s attention to the door. When Sarah appeared, she was smiling. “It’s all right. She was there, and when I explained, she said she’d call Hannah right away. Hannah will feel better knowing she has Sheila Downing to help her.”

“Gut. D-denke.” He set the glass down. “I must go and see what else I can do.”

He saw an invitation to supper forming on her face and went quickly to the door. “Denke,” he said again, and went out before they could try to convince him.

He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t sit still that long, not if there was some other way to help Hannah.

He drove back toward town, turning the question over in his mind. Should he tell Hannah’s bishop what was happening? But he didn’t like to do that without first getting her permission. She might feel the need to consult the bishop herself, especially about hiring a lawyer, something Amish and Mennonites seldom did. This situation wasn’t one most folks were prepared to cope with.

He’d almost reached town when another thought occurred to him. Hannah had mentioned how kind Nancy Russo had been, when she’d talked to the woman about her father-in-law. William knew the woman’s husband. Phil was a member of the volunteer fire company, like William, even though he didn’t go out on calls much anymore. Phil probably understood Robert Conroy better than William ever could. Maybe they’d be willing to help.

The more he thought about it, the better he liked the idea. But liking it and acting on it were two different things. To go to an Englisch person’s house, to talk about something so difficult—for an instant fear took a stranglehold on his throat.

He fought it down, inch by inch. This was for Hannah and Jamie. He would not let them down.

William began rehearsing in his mind what he would say, but the Russo house came up too quickly. Breathing a silent prayer, he turned into the driveway and tied the mare to a porch railing.

He approached the back door, and then realized that he was in town now, not in the country where visitors went to the back door as a matter of course. But even as he thought that, Phil opened the door.

“William Brand! Come in, come in. What brings you our way?” He ushered William into the kitchen. “Nancy, look who’s come to see us.”

Mrs. Russo he had seen in the shop a time or two, but he’d never actually spoken to her. He took off his hat as she came into the room.

“William, how nice.” The woman came straight to him, hand outstretched, smiling warmly. “Is there something we can do for you?”

He swallowed. “I-I w-want to t-talk to you. About R-Robert Conroy.” There, it was out, and the rest should be easier.

Nancy and her husband exchanged glances. “You’re a friend of Hannah’s, I know. Is this about her?”

“Nancy, I’m not sure we should get involved in this,” Phil began, his expression uneasy.

“You’re the one who got us involved to begin with,” she said firmly. She turned back to William. “Go on, William.”

He gripped the back of a kitchen chair, as he had at Aaron and Sarah’s. Somehow holding on to something solid made it easier to talk.

“C-Conroy h-has th-threatened H-Hannah. Saying if she d-doesn’t l-leave Pleasant Valley, he w-will try to t-take Jamie away.”

“But that’s ridiculous.” Phil’s face reddened. “He wouldn’t do that. You must have misunderstood.”

William let the words wash over him. “I h-heard him. H-he said he had t-talked to a lawyer in H-Harrisburg. If Hannah d-does not agree b-by Monday, he w-will g-go to court.”

It sounded unbelievable to William, as well, but it was true. If they wouldn’t accept it as true, they wouldn’t help.

“I know you are sympathetic to Robert as a fellow veteran, Phil,” Mrs. Russo said, “but you have to admit that he’s not being rational about Hannah’s faith. He’s a walking collection of all the ridiculous prejudices against Plain people we’ve ever heard, and you know it.”