Hannah's Joy (9 page)

Too bad he couldn’t.

*   *   *

“You’re
mad at me, aren’t you?” Megan walked next to Hannah as she pushed Jamie in his stroller toward the playground.

Hannah blinked. “No, of course not. Why should I be?”

“I interfered between you and your student.” Megan spread her hands wide. “You know me, always jumping before I think.”

“It’s all right.” True, Hannah wasn’t happy about it, but William had obviously intended to beg off anyway once he realized she had a guest.

“I think the boy understood . . .” Megan began.

“He’s a man.” Hannah’s temper flared. “William’s a grown man, only a year or two younger than we are. He’s hampered by his stammer. Helping him is . . . well, it’s the first chance I’ve had since I got married to use my training. It’s as important to me as it is to him.”

Hannah reached down to adjust Jamie’s hat, not sure she wanted to see Megan’s expression, a little embarrassed that she had responded so strongly to what was an innocent mistake on Megan’s part.

But Megan patted her hand where it gripped the stroller handle. “I’m sorry. I guess I wasn’t thinking of anything but how glad I am to see you. I didn’t realize how much teaching William meant to you. I don’t remember ever hearing you say that you were sorry not to have finished school.”

They’d reached the playground, and Hannah began pushing the stroller across the grass, Jamie squealing at the bumps. The minute he saw the sandbox he stood up, eager to get there.

“Just a minute, little boy,” she said, stopping to lift him out. She let him run the last few yards, watching him climb over the low wall.

“Look at him go,” Megan said, smiling. “I know how much mine have grown and changed since the last time we saw you, with Tommy in kindergarten already, but somehow I still pictured Jamie as that chubby little baby.”

“I know. It’s almost scary how fast he’s growing.” Hannah put Jamie’s sand pail and shovel into the sandbox, and he immediately began filling the pail with sand, spilling as much as he got in. She sat down next to Megan on the bench facing the sandbox.

“When you said I’d never regretted not finishing school,” Hannah said slowly, “I guess that was true at the time. When Travis and I got married, I left school willingly to go with him. I figured there’d be plenty of opportunities later to go back and get my degree.” She hesitated. “But it didn’t work out that way.”

“I know.” Megan’s voice was soft. “I’m sorry.”

Hannah shrugged. “Well, I’ve moved on, and I accept that I’ll probably never have that chance. But if I can help William, I’ll feel that maybe I haven’t wasted what I learned.”

“Maybe the opportunity will still come up for you to finish,” Megan said.

“Maybe.” But Hannah couldn’t envision how that would happen. “But Jamie and I have a good place here with my aunt. And she loves having us, so it’s working out.”

For the most part, it was working out, anyway.

“Pleasant Valley isn’t what I expected.” Megan smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t know what I did expect. But the clothes, the horses and buggies . . .” She nodded toward an Amish couple driving past in their buggy, two small children peering out the back. “I feel as if I’ve wandered onto a movie set.”

“They’re for real, I promise,” Hannah said. “They’re just ordinary people trying to live the way they think God wants them to.”

“Driving a horse and buggy?” Megan’s voice went up in disbelief. “But your aunt drives a car. You mentioned that.”

“Those are two different groups.” The thought of trying to explain Anabaptists in a few words was daunting. “The Amish are a fairly strict church. They try hard to live separate from the world, and they stay away from any technology that they think will intrude on family and community life, like cars and telephones and computers.”

“And your aunt?”

“Aunt Paula is a Plain Mennonite. They share a lot of beliefs with the Amish, but my aunt’s church allows things like electricity and telephones in the home.”

“What about that cap on your head? Did your aunt insist you wear it?”

She’d known Megan wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about that for long. “Prayer covering,” Hannah said. “Or kapp. My aunt wouldn’t insist on anything. But it’s . . .” She struggled, trying to find the words.

It had seemed natural, remembering her mother, being here where people took the kapp for granted. But Megan had brought a breath of that other world with her, and it wasn’t so easy to translate.

“Women in the Plain groups wear prayer coverings. My mother did. I did when I was young. It just seemed very natural to go back to that once I was living here.”

Megan shook her head. “Strange, that’s all I can say. I sure couldn’t live like this. Doesn’t it bother you, all these rules?”

“Not as much as I thought it would,” Hannah said, a little surprised to realize it was true. “After all, I lived this way until I was nine. To me, it’s more like coming home.”

“But it’s not . . . normal,” Megan protested.

Hannah had to laugh at her expression. “Lots of people wouldn’t think life on an army base was normal, either. Remember all the rules and regulations there? You can’t leave kids’ toys out in the yard, the grass has to be cut every week, no clothes out on the line after dark . . .”

“All right, all right.” Megan grinned, and any slight constraint that might have been between them was gone. “You might have a point there. Well, as long as you and Jamie are safe and happy.”

“We are.”

A shadow fell across her lap, and she looked up, startled. A man stood there, and she hadn’t heard him approach across the grass. Elderly, English, with white hair and a smile as he watched Jamie empty his bucket.

“He’s enjoying himself.”

“Yes, he loves the sandbox.” Hannah was beginning to get used to the casual friendliness of people here. “He’ll carry the sand home with him if I let him.”

“Paula wouldn’t want sand in the bakery, I guess.” He focused on her, holding out his hand. “I’m Phil Russo. And you’d be Hannah Conroy, I’m sure.”

“That’s right.” She stiffened a little, sensing something more than the usual easy greeting of people who knew who she was from seeing her at the bakery.

“I wanted to introduce myself. Our local veterans’ group just learned about you being the widow of a serviceman. Sorry to hear about your loss.”

She swallowed. “Thank you.”

He shook his head. “A sad thing. But you should be proud of him.”

“Yes. I am.”

Too many reminders were coming at her today—Megan’s visit, talking about the past, now this man. She’d told Megan she’d moved on, but that didn’t mean remembering wasn’t painful.

The man seemed a little disconcerted at her brief responses. “Well, I just wanted you to know that if we can be of help, you can call on us. Wouldn’t want you to feel you didn’t have support here.”

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” She glanced down, realizing that she was turning her wedding ring around and around on her finger.

“Anything you need,” he repeated. “We’re working on plans for our Veterans Day event right now, and we’d really like to have your participation, you and your little boy.”

She pressed her lips together for a moment. “I’m afraid I have my hands full, taking care of my son and helping my aunt with the bakery. I can’t take on anything else.”

“I see.” He obviously hadn’t expected to be turned down. “Well, you think about it and let me know. We’re in the phone book.” He nodded briefly and walked off the way he’d come.

Megan waited until he was out of earshot. “You were kind of eager to get rid of him, weren’t you? I’m sure he meant well.”

Hannah tried to take a deep breath and discovered that her chest felt too tight for that. She thought about her reaction to the young soldier getting off the bus days ago.

“He meant well,” she echoed Megan’s words. “But I . . . I’m not ready for the reminders.”

Megan didn’t say anything else, but Hannah could feel her gaze probing. Pushing. She was just another person who thought she knew what was best for Hannah.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

D
oes
your aunt like spaghetti?” Megan stirred the sauce she was making. “Maybe I should have asked that before I offered to cook supper.”

“It’s not traditional Pennsylvania Dutch food.” Hannah stepped over Jamie, who was pushing a car across the floor. “But yes, she likes it. Pizza, too. We’ve had that a couple of times since I’ve been here.”

“Remember when we used to order in pizza and have supper together? We’d sit and talk for hours at the kitchen table. What was the name of that little Italian place?”

“Luigi’s.” Hannah had no trouble supplying the name. Those had been happy times, with Travis and Jeff swapping stories or jeering at each other’s choice in football teams, while she and Megan talked . . . well, girl talk, she supposed. “I’ve missed that.”

“Me, too.” Megan dropped pasta into boiling water. “It’s kind of different, the base we’re on now. There are lots more social events. And charitable things, too. We’ve been preparing packages to send to those who’ve shipped out. And I’m chairing the blood drives now.”

Hannah nodded. She could picture those events, could see Megan flitting around, talking to everyone. “You always were comfortable in those mass gatherings. I could never think of anything to say to people.” And yet the work day she’d gone to here had been similar, and she’d felt at ease.

“It takes practice, that’s all,” Megan said.

“So you were always telling me. I’m sure you’ll do great, organizing the drive.”

“Telling people what to do.” Megan grinned. “My favorite thing.”

True enough. Megan was a born organizer, and she was always so friendly that nobody seemed to resent her orders.

Busy, busy. Megan always had to be busy, as if three small children and a house weren’t enough to keep her occupied. But Hannah knew what was behind that constant busyness. It was Megan’s way of dealing with the worry, especially when Jeff was deployed.

She watched Megan’s face bent over the steaming kettle. Jeff would ship out again in a few months. Hannah remembered, too well, the mixture of pride and fear that had to be dogging Megan.

If she said something, would it help? Maybe not. Megan had found her own way of coping.

“It smells ser gut in here.” Aunt Paula came in, catching Jamie as he ran to meet her. “Hannah, you didn’t tell me your friend was such a fine cook.”

“Better wait until you taste it,” Hannah said lightly. “I remember some of Megan’s experiments.”

“Like the frosting that curdled,” Megan said. “Or the meat loaf that was so hard even the dog wouldn’t eat it?”

“Those are the ones,” Hannah said. She pried him away from Aunt Paula. “Come on, little man. Let’s wash those hands for supper.”

By the time she had Jamie settled in his high chair with food in front of him, the meal was on the table. Megan and her aunt seemed to be talking more easily now. Aunt Paula’s stiffness wasn’t so evident. Either Megan’s cheerful friendliness had won her over, or Aunt Paula was being more successful at hiding her discomfort.

Intent on getting more food into Jamie’s mouth than on his shirt, Hannah lost the thread of the conversation for a few minutes, only to be startled by a question from Megan.

“Hannah, do you remember? The name of the man who talked to you at the park?”

“Russo, I think,” Hannah said. She hadn’t intended to mention that meeting to her aunt, but Megan had taken the choice from her.

Since she hadn’t asked Megan to keep quiet, she shouldn’t be feeling annoyed with her. Still, Megan had surely seen that she didn’t want to talk about it.

“Phil Russo.” Aunt Paula supplied the name. “It must have been. He comes in for coffee sometimes, and he likes my shoofly pie. What did he want to talk to you about?” Her forehead furrowed.

“I think he just noticed Jamie playing in the sandbox and stopped to say hello,” Hannah said. She had no intention of lying to her aunt, but there wasn’t any reason—

“He belongs to the local veterans’ group.” Megan spoke quickly. “He told Hannah that if there was any way they could help her, just to ask.”

“That was kind of him.” The reserve was back in Paula’s voice. “They’re nice folks, he and his wife, Nancy. They settled here when he retired from the service, because she has kin here.”

“He seemed very pleasant.” Hannah shot a look at Megan.
Stop talking about
it.

But Megan chose to ignore the message. “He invited Hannah to participate in the Veterans Day events, whatever they are.”

“A parade,” Aunt Paula said. Her gaze, fixed on Hannah, was troubled and questioning. “I know they have a parade. I’m not sure what else.”

“Hannah could find out,” Megan said.

Hannah felt as if she were being squeezed. “No.” Her firmness surprised her.

“But they’re only interested in honoring Travis,” Megan protested. “I’d think you’d want to be a part of that.”

Hannah closed her eyes for a second, trying to find the right words—the words that would stop Megan’s pushing and remove the anxiety from her aunt’s face. She couldn’t. This must be how William felt, trying to express himself and unable to.

“It’s too much of a reminder,” Aunt Paula said, coming to her rescue. “I think that Hannah is not ready for such a thing yet.”

Hannah nodded, the constriction in her throat lessening.

“Oh, Hannah, I’m sorry.” Megan put down her fork. “What an idiot I am, pressuring you like that. I didn’t mean to.”

Hannah managed a smile. “You didn’t?”

“Okay, I admit it.” Megan’s expression turned rueful. “I’m always trying to manage people. I guess I thought it would be good for you to get involved. Forgive me?”

“Of course.” Most of Hannah’s tension eased away. It would be all right. Their friendship could withstand a disagreement.

But the incident did emphasize the distance between them. They could never go back to the way it had been before Travis died. She and Megan didn’t have that common bond any longer.

She had a new life now, and Megan had moved on, too. Maybe, no matter how much they tried, they wouldn’t be able to hold on to their closeness, and she’d have that loss to mourn, as well.

*   *   *

Wednesday
afternoon was always quiet in Pleasant Valley, with many of the shops closing early. So far as William knew, nobody was sure how the custom started, but like a lot of things, it was simply what the local people did.

Caleb and Katie would be closing their shops in less than an hour, but that didn’t affect him. Caleb wouldn’t mind if he stayed here in the workshop, if he wanted.

And William did want that. Working with his hands eased his mind, and he could use that soothing right now. He brushed stain on the rocking chair back he was working on, noticing how it brought up the grain of the wood. He liked to let the rhythm of the work seep into him.

Still, no matter how he tried, he couldn’t manage to forget what had happened yesterday. Would Hannah expect to work with him tomorrow? She hadn’t said anything. If her guest was still here, she probably didn’t, but he wished she’d let him know.

Footsteps on the stairs interrupted a train of thought that wasn’t getting him anywhere. He was surprised to see his nine-year-old nephew Joseph, Rachel’s son.

“J-Joseph. What are you d-doing here?” He smiled, reaching to the boy.

Joseph hurried to give him a hug. “I went to the dentist. Mammi took me out of school for the whole afternoon.”

“How w-was it?”

“No cavities,” Joseph said importantly. “Dr. Franklin gave me a new toothbrush. Blue, with a white stripe.”

“Gut for you.” William leaned against the workbench, relaxing. “S-so what brings you here?”

“Mammi is looking at material for a dress in Katie’s shop. She said I could komm up, but not to bother you. I’m not bothering, am I?” Joseph leaned against the bench, too, maybe unconsciously imitating his onkel’s pose.

“Never,” William said.

“Gut, ’cause I have to tell you something. It’s a secret.” Joseph whispered the words, even though no one could have heard him.

“If it’s a s-secret, m-maybe you shouldn’t tell.”

“No, it’s a secret for you and me and my sisters.” He grinned. “Mary will be mad I got to tell you, that’s for sure. She’s not very gut at keeping secrets.”

Mary wasn’t even in school yet. She probably didn’t understand what her older brother and sister meant about keeping something secret.

“S-so what is it?” Ezra’s kinder had been confiding their secrets in Onkel William for a long time. He was glad to see that hadn’t stopped.

“Mammi’s birthday is next month. We’ve been saving up for a present for her, and we thought maybe you could make something. We have almost five dollars. Do you think it’s enough?” Joseph’s small face grew tight with concern.

“Ja, for s-sure.” The cost didn’t matter. He’d make what the boy wanted, even if he had to cover the difference himself. “What d-do you w-want?”

“We’re not sure.” Joseph’s expression grew very serious. “First we thought a rocking chair, but we don’t have enough money for that. So then we thought maybe a bookshelf, except that Gideon made Mammi a whole bookcase for her books last Christmas.” Joseph leaned against his arm. “What do you think Mammi would like? You know her really well.”

That flicked at his heart, just a bit. Once, he’d known Rachel as well as anyone, he’d have said, but now that she was married to Gideon, he’d cut down on the amount of time he spent there. No matter how generous Gideon was, William didn’t want to be a nuisance. He didn’t want to see anything but pleasure in Rachel’s face when he came to her door.

“I’ll tell you what your m-mamm would like. A cup rack.” He lifted one down from the shelf above the workbench. “See, l-like this. She c-can keep the cups she uses out so they’re h-handy.”

Joseph studied it solemnly. “Could you make it more curvy?” He made a shape with his hand. “Sort of like Mammi’s flowers?”

“That’s a g-gut thought.” He ruffled Joseph’s hair. “You’re p-pretty s-smart.”

Joseph grinned, obviously pleased. “Mammi will like it, and she’ll know you made it special for her. Like when you made the train for me.”

“Y-you r-remember that? You w-were only two then.” He’d nearly forgotten it himself. It had taken him ages, creating it by trial and error, mostly error. He could do a better job of it now.

“Ja, for sure. It’s on the shelf in my room.”

He could make a train like that for Jamie, he realized. Hannah’s boy was just about the right age for such a toy. It would be a small way of letting Hannah know he appreciated what she’d been doing for him.

“It’s s-settled th-then. I’ll m-make a cup rack for your mamm.”

“Denke, Onkel William.” Joseph leaned against him. “I knew you would help us.”

William put his arm around the boy’s shoulders. Joseph couldn’t know how much good his visit had done for William.

He liked knowing someone counted on him and looked to him for help. To Joseph and his sisters he was someone special, someone who could be trusted to do what they couldn’t. That attitude was a fine antidote for the way Hannah’s friend had looked at him.

That had been foolishness, letting himself get so upset by what that woman had said. Childish, and he wasn’t a child, no matter that people seemed to want to treat him that way.

Joseph’s innocent faith in him was a reminder he’d needed right now.

*   *   *

Hannah
kept an eye out for William at the fire company’s barbecue that Wednesday evening, even as she broke up some chicken pieces for Jamie. Aunt Paula held Jamie on her lap at the rough trestle table, managing to keep his hands out of her coleslaw while chatting in Pennsylvania Dutch with the woman next to her.

Megan nudged her elbow. “Do you actually understand them?” she murmured, nodding toward the two women.

Hannah shrugged, trying to grab a bite of her barbecued chicken before Jamie demanded more. “Some of it,” she said. “When I was small I heard it all the time, and I’m not sure I even realized whether I was speaking English or dialect. After my family moved away, I lost the language.”

“And now it’s coming back.” Megan glanced at Jamie. “And Jamie will grow up knowing it, I guess.”

Hannah shrugged, not sure what Megan was driving at. “It’s good to be bilingual, isn’t it?”

Megan didn’t answer. Instead she glanced around, as if the mixture of Amish, Mennonites, and English gathered around the tables outside the fire hall was strange enough to stare at.

Surely Megan had realized before she came that Hannah’s life would be different here, hadn’t she? Hannah had thought Megan was getting acclimated, but now she seemed awkward, even uncomfortable, as if she hadn’t expected this mix of people.

Hannah scanned a table of Amish men, looking for a familiar face. She wanted to ask William if he would be able to come Friday afternoon, instead of tomorrow, since Megan would be leaving that morning and things would go back to normal.

Not that she wanted Megan’s visit to end—of course she didn’t think that. But she hadn’t expected it to be quite as disruptive as it was turning out to be. She felt as if she had to be constantly alert, explaining Megan to other people as well as helping Megan understand her life here.

“Maybe tomorrow we can take my car and do a little sightseeing,” Megan said. “I’ll have to make an early start on Friday, so there won’t be time then.”

“We’ll have to work around Jamie’s nap. And how busy we are at the bakery.”

Aunt Paula, overhearing, waved her hand. “Don’t worry about the shop. Naomi will be helping me. You go enjoy yourselves. And maybe Jamie will even sleep in the car for you.”

“Great.” Megan pounced on that. “Maybe we can make a whole day of it and have lunch out someplace.”

“That would be nice.” Although Hannah could foresee Jamie having a meltdown if they were out too long.

“I wish I could stay longer,” Megan said. “But it’s your turn to visit me, don’t forget. You can bring Jamie and stay as long as you want.”

Hannah caught a look of apprehension in Aunt Paula’s face before she had a chance to shake her head.

“That’s so nice of you, Megan. But I don’t feel quite brave enough to set off on that long trip with Jamie. It was a nightmare just getting here with him. Maybe when he’s a little older it will work out.”