Hannah's Joy (5 page)

“I understand. I don’t want to do anything that would make his life more difficult.”

Katie reached across the counter to pat Hannah’s hand, and for a moment they seemed to be allies. Friends. “I’d like to see William get over these feelings. I’ll do what I can to persuade him to say yes.”

“Thank you.” But given the pain that was behind William’s reasons, Hannah doubted anything would work.

“This is a gut thing you’re offering,” Katie said. “Don’t give up on him.”

“I won’t.” She smiled at Katie, feeling the understanding between them.

At least one good thing had come out of her effort. It seemed she’d found a friend.

*   *   *

Amish
worship on Sunday morning had been at Rachel and Gideon Zook’s barn, and William had lingered after the lunch to help with the cleanup and spend a little time with his nieces and nephew.

Worship sometimes left him feeling a bit unsettled, and today had been one of those days. He couldn’t help but notice, when he sat in worship, that most of the boys he’d grown up with now wore the beards of married men. They’d also been baptized, so that they were full members of the church.

But not him. Most folks decided to be baptized when they were ready to marry, and he had never been at that point. Not that he couldn’t have asked to be baptized anyway, but somehow the time had never seemed right. If he were baptized into the church, maybe then he’d feel as if he weren’t on the outside looking in, but that seemed a poor reason for making such a serious decision.

“That’s the last of them,” Gideon said, and he swung shut the door of the wagon that carried benches from house to house or barn to barn for worship every other Sunday. “Denke, William.”

“G-gut to have it d-done, ja?” Most folks liked hosting worship, but felt relief at knowing their turn wouldn’t come around again for a year.

“For sure,” Gideon said. “Maybe Rachel will stop her cleaning now. She even wanted to shine every window in the greenhouses.”

“L-looks fine.” Rachel had started with one small greenhouse for her plants, but her business had gone well and now there were two.

“I did that, Onkel Will.” Joseph, Rachel’s boy, had approached in time to hear what his stepfather had said. “I shined every window. Even the high ones.”

“You’re g-getting so big you’ll soon d-do it without a ladder.”

He smiled at the boy, but with a small pang in his heart. Joseph was almost nine now, and it seemed he looked more like his daad each year that passed. In his blue shirt and black vest, he was a replica of Ezra dressed for worship at that age.

“You did a fine job, Joseph,” Gideon said, snatching off Joseph’s straw hat to ruffle his fine hair, and then plopping it back on again. “You made your mamm happy.”

Joseph, who had a tender heart, looked gratified at that, and he leaned against Gideon for a moment.

It was a fine thing, that Gideon was so close to his stepchildren. Fine, too, that he always made William feel he was still part of the family. Some men would not be so generous.

“I’m going to check on my goats,” Joseph announced. “And Mammi said to tell you there’s more lemonade on the porch. You’ll see the goats before you go, Onkel Will, ja?”

“For sure,” William said, turning to follow Gideon toward the house.

“Stay and have supper after the rest of the folks leave,” Gideon urged. “The kinder want to spend time with you.”

“D-denke.” They passed a small knot of men, Isaac included, still talking. “Y-y-you are g-g-gut to include m-me.” His tongue always seemed to get tangled when he tried to say what he felt. “D-denke.”

Gideon seemed to understand what he was trying to say. “I love them,” he said simply. “How could I be jealous of someone who loves them, too?”

“S-some would.”

Gideon shook his head. “Then I’d feel sorry for them, to be so selfish.”

Rachel came out on the porch, carrying the baby, and Gideon’s face lit up. He covered the distance in one long stride and tickled his son under the chin. Josiah chuckled, the sound surprisingly deep for a baby. Gideon looked at Rachel and a message seemed to pass between them, something that didn’t need words. He went on into the house, leaving William with Rachel.

“Josiah, here is Onkel William.” Rachel bounced the boppli and then plopped him in William’s arms.

He automatically tightened his grip on the fat little bundle. “Not r-really h-his onkel,” he said.

“Don’t talk so foolish.” Rachel’s soft smile took any sting from the words. “You are my little bruder, just like always. You know that, don’t you?”

His heart warmed. “Ja.”

“Is something wrong?” A small line appeared between her eyes.

He shrugged. Sitting on the porch rail, he bounced the boppli on his knee, and Josiah squealed. “Just b-busy.”

Rachel nodded. “I heard Isaac’s been working you a lot lately. Is it causing trouble with Caleb?”

“Caleb’s f-fine. I just w-wish . . .” He let that die away, because there was no point in it.

“You’d like to be working full-time with Caleb, wouldn’t you? I know Caleb would like that, too. He’s always saying what gut work you do.” Rachel usually seemed able to guess what he was thinking. “Why don’t you tell Isaac that?”

He shrugged again, not wanting to say anything that sounded like a criticism of his brother.

“Isaac is a gut man,” Rachel said carefully. “I could never forget how he helped me when I needed it. But I would not let him decide what my life should be.”

No, Rachel wouldn’t do that. Gentle and peaceable as she was, Rachel had stood firm against Isaac’s plan for her to sell the farm to his son. Maybe she had more courage than he did.

“H-he’s my b-brother. I l-live in his house. I w-want to help.” Even if sometimes Isaac was telling him to do a chore that one of the boys could as easily attend to.

“Caleb says you have a gift as a carpenter.” Rachel put a gentle hand on his arm. “If that’s so, maybe that’s what God wants you to do. And maybe Isaac needs to see that your work is important, too.” She patted him as she would one of the children. “You deserve your own dreams, William. Don’t forget that.”

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

Y
ou
were such a gut boy this morning.” Aunt Paula patted Jamie’s cheek as Hannah lifted him into the stroller after church.

“He was, wasn’t he?” Hannah couldn’t help the relief in her voice. A two-hour service felt long to her even for the adults, but apparently not to people who were raised to it. The other toddlers were mostly content to sit quietly on their mothers’ laps, but Jamie seemed born to squirm. Still, today had been the best yet.

Around them, people in Plain dress filed out of the simple white frame churchhouse where Pleasant Valley’s Mennonite population worshipped. Many stopped to exchange greetings with them.

Was Hannah imagining it, or were the smiles a bit warmer today? Perhaps Aunt Paula wasn’t the only person who was relieved because she was wearing a proper prayer covering.

She waited until they’d walked out of earshot of the congregation before she spoke. “When I came to worship without a kapp . . . did other people think I was disrespectful?”

“Of course not.” Her aunt said the words quickly, but she also glanced away just as quickly. Then she shrugged. “I don’t know. Some, maybe, but that’s forgotten already. After all, you haven’t been baptized into the church.”

No, she hadn’t. She hadn’t even considered herself a Mennonite since she’d been ten or eleven.

Her aunt had made her and Jamie welcome here. She’d hate to think that had cost Paula in any way.

Or maybe she’d be more honest with herself if she admitted that she hadn’t considered that aspect of the situation. She’d been so worried about providing a home for Jamie, and so relieved by Aunt Paula’s invitation . . .

“If it’s been awkward for you with the church, having me here, I’m sorry.”

Aunt Paula patted her hand where it wrapped around the stroller handle. “Don’t be foolish. Most people understand. And they all rejoice with me that you are back where you belong.”

The love in Aunt Paula’s voice was unmistakable. But so was the sense of finality. As far as she was concerned, having Hannah here was like having her little sister back. She was picturing Hannah and Jamie here for life.

A flicker of panic brushed Hannah’s nerves, and she took a deep, steadying breath. She’d been honest with Aunt Paula up front, hadn’t she? She’d told her that first evening that this was only a temporary solution to her problems. That when Jamie was old enough, she’d have to go back to the outside world. How else could she raise him the way his father would have wanted?

Maybe adopting the kapp had been a mistake. Hannah had thought only to fit in, to please her aunt, maybe to honor the person her mother had once been. But if Aunt Paula took that to mean she intended to stay for good—

Love could trap you in a difficult situation, with no way out unless you were willing to hurt someone. She knew that well enough. Her father had reached that point, and she’d never forget the pain she’d felt when she’d realized that he wasn’t coming back.

“A fall Sunday is a fine thing,” Aunt Paula said, smiling at the wooden barrels filled with chrysanthemums on the walk outside the gift shop. “Peaceful.”

“It is.” Hannah forced herself to respond in what she hoped was a normal tone. “It’s still warm enough for summer most days, though.”

Pleasant Valley seemed to doze in the slanting autumn sunshine. The shops were closed for the most part, with even the Englisch merchants following the custom of their Amish and Mennonite neighbors.

Peaceful
was the right word. In the places she’d lived in recent years, it had been hard to tell which day was the Sabbath.

Her aunt picked up a mum blossom that had been broken off. She tickled Jamie’s chin with it. He made a grab for the russet flower and promptly tried to stick it in his mouth.

“No, no, little man.” Aunt Paula handed him the soggy teething biscuit he’d been chewing on. “Flowers are not for eating.”

“He’ll taste a few more before he figures that out,” Hannah said.

She’d grown philosophical about the things that found their way into a toddler’s mouth. Once Jamie had started to walk, it had become impossible to protect him from everything his chubby fingers wanted to explore.

But there were bigger dangers from which she did have to protect him, and the panic she’d experienced when she was alone in the world with a child stirred again. She hadn’t felt it in over a month. She’d gotten used to the sense of security that surrounded her here. But she couldn’t let that need for security push her into making the wrong decision.

The telephone was ringing when they reached the top of the stairs at the apartment. Aunt Paula gave the instrument a frowning glance, and Hannah had no trouble reading her thoughts. No one would call her aunt on a Sunday unless it was an emergency.

“I’ll get it.” Hannah moved quickly to silence the ringing, picking up the receiver. “This is Paula Schatz’s house,” she said.

“Hannah? Is that you?” A light voice with the hint of a Southern drawl . . . it was Megan Townsend, Hannah’s best friend and constant support when their husbands had been deployed. But Megan’s husband had come back.

“Megan. It’s so nice to hear your voice.” Hannah glanced at Aunt Paula. Her aunt nodded, gesturing toward the kitchen.

“I’ll get Jamie something to eat,” she said. “You visit with your friend.”

“I was beginning to think you’d fallen off the face of the earth,” Megan exclaimed. “Where have you been?” The urgency in her tone suggested that Hannah had vanished into the Sahara.

“I’m right here in Pennsylvania with my aunt, remember?”

Smiling, she settled into the rocking chair. Hearing Megan’s voice reminded her of countless times when Megan had overreacted to the smallest incident and Hannah, by nature less volatile, had had to talk her down.

“Well, obviously, since I called this number. But I must have sent you a hundred e-mails and texts, and you haven’t responded to a single one.”

“I’m sorry.” She should have realized that would be Megan’s preferred method of contacting her. “I should have told you that my aunt doesn’t have an Internet connection.”

“Well, you get one, sugar.” Megan must be relaxing because she’d dropped into her drawl. “It won’t cost that much, and you have to have some way to stay in touch.”

“I can’t.” She tried to think how to explain her aunt’s church ban on the Internet and didn’t come up with anything Megan would understand. “It is her house, and she wouldn’t like it.”

She’d lowered her voice, hoping it didn’t carry into the kitchen. Since Jamie seemed to be banging the high chair tray with his spoon, that probably didn’t matter.

“Old-fashioned, is she?” Megan arrived at her own conclusion. “There must be an Internet café someplace.”

Sure, if she wanted to go all the way to Lewisburg. “This is a small town, remember? A really small town.”

Megan chuckled, the sound a warm memory of all the afternoons they’d sat talking while their children played. “All right, I get you. Probably like the town in Georgia where my grandmamma lives. No movie theater and a bowling alley that closes at eleven.”

“Not even a bowling alley. And I wouldn’t have time to bowl if we had one.”

“Is that aunt of yours working you too hard?” Megan’s tone sharpened a little. “You know you can always come back here and stay with us if you don’t like it there.”

Hannah’s heart clutched at the thought. Life on an army base had been, oddly enough, similar in some ways to living in Pleasant Valley. They’d all been in the same boat, and they’d supported each other.

But that had ended for her when Travis died, and she couldn’t go back.

“Nothing like that.” She put some energy into her voice, almost feeling Megan’s concern through the phone, as if she sat next to her. “My aunt is the kindest person in the world. But working in the bakery and watching a toddler at the same time takes all my attention, believe me. Now that Jamie is walking, I can’t take my eyes off him for a minute.”

“My goodness, you ought to see the twins.” That deflected Megan, as Hannah had known it would. “Cindy’s walking all over the place, and Becca refuses to try. Thinks she can get where she wants to go by crawling faster, I guess. Yesterday she pulled every single thing off the end table. Lucky she didn’t knock herself in the head with it.”

“Did she get hurt at all?” Hannah could tell the baby hadn’t by the half-laughing tone of Megan’s voice.

“Not a scratch. She sat there laughing until she saw me, and then she crawled away as fast as those fat little knees would move.”

Hannah laughed with her. She and Megan had gotten through their pregnancies together, shared tears over colic and fears over fevers, helped each other through every step. Megan was the closest friend she’d ever had, and she missed her.

“I wish I could see all of you,” she said impulsively.

“Come for a visit,” Megan said promptly. “Your aunt can get along without you for a week, can’t she?”

“She could, but I couldn’t.” Hannah’s throat tightened, her voice went husky. “I’m not ready to be back on the base. You understand.”

Megan gave a wordless murmur of sympathy. “Well, then, I guess I’ll have to come to you.”

“You what?” She’d never thought . . .

“Come to see you,” Megan said. “Listen, I deserve a break, don’t I? Just give me some time to set it up and then get ready for fun, girlfriend. I’m coming to see this new life of yours for myself.”

By the time she hung up, Hannah was finally convinced that Megan meant it. She’d really come. Hannah suspected she’d be walking around with a silly grin on her face for days.

But there was an edge to her excitement. Megan was a friend, a good friend. Hannah touched the prayer kapp on her hair. But could Megan possibly understand the life Hannah was living now?

She shook off the unwelcome thought. Megan would understand. Or if she didn’t, she’d accept. That was the kind of friendship they had.

She went back into the kitchen, and Aunt Paula glanced up from giving Jamie his snack. She obviously expected to hear about the call.

Privacy was a missing element here. Hannah knew her aunt’s curiosity arose from love, but she wasn’t used to sharing quite so much. Sometimes the sense that other people knew so much about her made her uneasy. There was something to be said for the anonymity of a city.

“That was my friend Megan, calling to see how we are.”

“Ja, you mentioned her before, I think. She is the one who has twins?”

Hannah nodded. “Girls, just a little older than Jamie. We were pregnant at the same time, so we’ve been through plenty. And Megan has a little boy who’s five, so she was the one I turned to when I needed advice.” She smiled. “Which was often. It’s tough to read an answer in a book when you’re juggling a crying baby.”

“And all on your own.” Aunt Paula wiped applesauce from Jamie’s face. “That must be so hard, not having family around to help.”

“Living on an army base was almost like having family.” Hannah suspected she sounded a bit defensive. “People did look out for each other.”

“I’m glad.” Paula’s face clouded. “If your mammi had been alive . . .” She let that trail off, shaking her head.

Hannah tried to dismiss a flicker of irritation. Paula was still remembering the little sister she loved, and maybe forgetting the woman she’d turned into.

Hannah poured milk in Jamie’s sippy cup, gave it to him, and lifted him in her arms. “Nap time, sweetheart.”

He leaned his head against her shoulder.

Some of Hannah’s excitement over Megan’s visit had slipped away, and she tried to regain it. “Megan had some good news for me,” she said. “She’s making arrangements to come for a visit.”

“Here?” Aunt Paula’s voice was sharp.

Hannah looked at her in surprise. “Yes. Not right away. She’ll have to work out a time when her husband can be with the children. It’ll take some doing, but when Megan is determined, no one can hold out against her.” She smiled, remembering.

Aunt Paula turned toward the sink, rinsing a plate with concentrated care. “If she comes, when would that be?”

If?

“Not right away. As I said, she’ll have to make arrangements. Are you concerned that it will be a busy time for us? Megan is very adaptable. She won’t get in the way.”

“Well, but . . . where would we put her? I don’t have another bedroom.”

“She can share with me. She won’t mind.” Hannah wanted to see her aunt’s face, but Paula kept it averted. Uneasiness sent a ripple down her spine. “Is something wrong?”

Her aunt shrugged. “I chust think that someone like her won’t be used to our way of living. She won’t like it here.”

“Megan is coming to see me. She won’t care—” The message in her aunt’s stiff figure got through to her. “You don’t want her to come, do you?” Obviously she should have asked, not simply announced it.

“It’s not that.” Aunt Paula’s tone was unconvincing. “But how would an outsider fit in here?”

Hannah’s breath caught. The fear and uncertainty that hadn’t gone far since Travis died swept over her, and the floor was uncertain beneath her feet.

“Haven’t I fit in here?”

“That’s different. You are not an outsider. You are my niece, coming back where you belong.” Aunt Paula shook her head, the lines of her face seeming to deepen. “I thought . . . I hoped . . . you were content here.”

“I am. But that doesn’t mean I have to forget my friends, does it?” The words came out strangled. Jamie seemed to sense her tension and stirred against her, making a fretful sound that was not quite a cry.

Aunt Paula shook her head. “I suppose not. But I can’t help thinking you’d be better off without reminders of that other life.” She shrugged, turning away again and busying herself at the sink. “But your friend will be welcome if she comes.”

Hannah could only stand there, holding Jamie, feeling as if the few feet between her and her aunt had stretched to a mile, leaving her startled and surprised. And alone.

*   *   *

William
had been watching for Hannah from the window of the workshop, trying not to be obvious about it. Caleb probably noticed, but he didn’t say anything.