“Ja. Please.” Instead of following him into the kitchen, she checked on the status of their young charges. The pups were curled up, asleep in the blanketed box.
Gabe reemerged and handed her a cup. “They were fed again just a bit ago. They’re...quite effective in making their needs known.” He tipped his head toward the lamp emitting a dim glow near the sofa. “Power’s on. County should be digging out soon. Did you get your call made?”
“Ja. Left a message. Someone should pick it up soon. I just couldn’t stand to have them worry.”
“I understand. Thankfully I didn’t get paged last night, but I need to get another cell phone lined up. And get someone to pull my truck out of the ditch. Hopefully it’s still sitting upright. But first, breakfast. Do you want a breakfast bar, or a breakfast bar?”
“Hmm. That’s a difficult decision. I think I’ll have a breakfast bar.”
“Good choice.” Gabe disappeared into the kitchen again, brought out two bars and handed one to Hannah. They ate them standing over the heater.
Upon finishing, Hannah gathered up her stockings and shoes from where they’d been set to dry. “I need to go back downstairs. I came to check on the pups and to get my shoes.”
Gabe wadded up his wrapper. “Not for my fantastic breakfast?”
Hannah smiled. “Well, that, too. But I...shouldn’t be up here alone with you.”
Gabe sighed, but his intent gaze reminded Hannah of her agreement last night to talk with the bishop and her family about her relationship with him.
Snagging her outer gear from the pegs near the door, Gabe gestured for Hannah to precede him downstairs. “I’ll go down with you to use the phone. I need to leave messages at work and the tow service.” Both of them in stocking feet, their treads were quiet on the stairs.
“While I wait, I might wander out to see if the truck’s okay. Maybe I’ll take a shovel with me, to try to dig it out. And then I might go to where the accident was. Maybe root around in the snow a bit like a St. Bernard and try to find my phone.”
Hannah giggled at the image of Gabe pawing in the ditch, snow flying out behind him. “Watching you do that would almost be worth the walk out to the truck.”
“Store won’t open for a while. You’re welcome to join me...”
Gabe held the shop’s door open for her. Basking in his smile, Hannah grinned up at him and walked through under his arm. A motion at the shop’s wide windows drew her attention. Three men were looking into the shop, a team of draft horses and sleigh behind them. Hannah’s breath caught with joy at seeing her father and two oldest brothers. Until she watched the transition from shock to dismay on Zebulun Lapp’s face before his expression morphed into somber lines.
Through the glass, Hannah saw his gaze shift from her to Gabe and back again. Glancing at Gabe, unshaven with rumbled hair, his arm at the door practically around her, Hannah then looked down at her wrinkled dress. She instantly knew what her father was thinking.
Zebulun Lapp’s attention lingered above her frozen stare. Reaching up with her free hand, Hannah patted her head, gasping when her fingers touched only mussed hair. Her glance flew to the counter where her kapp sat where she’d put it last night. Dropping her shoes and stockings, Hannah dashed over, snatched up her prayer covering and pulled it into position, her fingers fumbling to gather the pins from the counter’s slick surface.
When she looked outside again, her father was turning away from the window. Racing to the door, Hannah quickly unlocked it and ran outside. “Daed!”
Her father turned, his gaze sweeping from the hastily positioned kapp to her feet, clad in Gabe’s socks, on the snow covered sidewalk. He sighed. “Your mamm and I worried about you when you didn’t come home. We wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Hannah didn’t feel the cold of the snow under her feet or the frigid breeze through the thin material of her dress. She was too hot with shame. “I’m so sorry. I helped Gabe with an accident last night. I was going to call but the power went out and he lost his phone in the snow.” Even to her ears, it sounded far-fetched. “I left a message this morning at the phone hut. I spent the night downstairs in the shop. Truly.”
Her daed’s gaze lifted to above and behind her. Hannah felt a weight settle over her shoulders and discovered Gabe had covered her with her cloak. Zebulun turned his attention to the draft horses who were stomping their feet in the snow. “I need to let your mamm know I found you. Do you need anything before I go?”
I need to know that you’re not upset with me. That you don’t think I’ve let you down. That I haven’t brought shame upon you. Hannah almost sobbed the words. She’d lived her life striving to always do the right thing. Responding to everything with humble obedience. Except for the times when she first met and secretly went out with Gabe. With a twist in her stomach, she watched her daed climb into the sleigh. “Where are you going?”
Zebulun settled onto the bench seat, Hannah’s brothers climbed silently into the sleigh beside him. “Your mamm wants some groceries since we’re in town. And when the feed store opens, I need some minerals for the cows.”
“I’ll go with you!”
With a look at her feet, Zebulun frowned. “You’ll need shoes.”
“Just give me a moment, please!” Hannah turned, almost bumping into Gabe as she dashed into the shop. He followed more slowly behind her, standing a few feet away as she jerked off his socks and struggled to put on her air-dried stockings while standing on one foot.
“Hannah.”
She set her foot down on the cold floor, stocking bunched at the heel, and clamped her hands to her cheeks. “I can’t, Gabe. I’m sorry. I thought I could marry you. But to do so would hurt my family. I can’t... I can’t bear to shame them like I just did.”
“But we didn’t do anything...”
“We did. I did. I saw his face. I hurt my daed. It was something I promised myself I’d never do after seeing the pain and shame they felt when Gail left.”
Hannah couldn’t see him clearly through her tear-blurred vision. “I need to do as my parents wish. To follow Gott’s will as the bishop wishes and...and marry elsewhere.” Kneeling, she finished pulling on her stockings and slid her feet into clammy shoes. The laces were too stiff to hurry, so Hannah drew in a few deep breaths as she clumsily tied them. As she straightened to stand, she brushed the tears from her face. She almost sobbed anew at Gabe’s expression. Even the man in the wreck last night hadn’t looked as defeated.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered before turning for the door. As she went through, she locked it. At the heavy click on the old door, Hannah couldn’t help but think she was locking up something else, as well.
Her heart.
Chapter Sixteen
Wisconsinites were experts in digging out after winter storms. Within a day, the town was set to rights. Within two days, other than deeper drifts in ditches and across fields, it was as if the storm had never happened.
But Hannah knew better. She pushed peas around her plate with her fork, dodging other uneaten food from The Dew Drop’s daily special. In those two days, she hadn’t had the courage to talk with her daed. It wasn’t that they’d been avoiding each other. When Hannah was home, her daed had been busy with extra chores due to the storm. At supper, with her folks and her four brieder interacting around the table, her subdued silence wasn’t noticeable.
Unlike here. Hannah glanced up to find Jethro watching her while he ate. Feeling her cheeks heat, she dropped her gaze again to her plate and set down her fork. Ruby Weaver had stopped by the shop late yesterday, ostensibly to buy fabric to finish binding her quilt. Hannah recognized the visit as judgment to see if she was chastened enough to still be a worthy wife for the bishop’s son.
Right now, she didn’t feel worthy of anyone. Hannah squeezed her eyes shut at the knowledge of the pain she’d caused Gabe. Of how fickle he must t
hink her. She knew she loved him. But she’d learned from when she was just beyond a boppeli how vital gelassenheit was to Amish society. Yielding to the will of Gott and others was woven into the fabric of their lives. The welfare of the community was more important than individual rights and choices. More important than her choice. Gabe. Who could never be more than just an aching dream or memory to Hannah.
Opening her eyes, she slid her napkin over to wipe away a teardrop from the table’s glossy surface. Jethro Weaver was a good man. It was time she focused on reality and not wishes, hopes and dreams. This was her future, if he’d still have her. This man. Whom she needed to get to know.
A concept easier said than done without a conversation. So far, she’d asked how the bishop was doing after his incident. “Fine” had been the reply, with no elaboration. Had Jethro had any problems with the storm? “No.” After numerous other one-word answers, she’d left the man to eat his roast beef and potatoes in peace.
Hannah glanced around the restaurant, unintentionally catching Mrs. Edigers’s eye. The midwife smiled and waved from where she was eating with her husband. Hannah nodded back, feeling a flash of joy at the memory of working with the woman to bring Ruth’s baby into the world. Her expression softened at the reminder of the amazement of Gott’s creation, the wonder of birth and the opportunity to help mothers through the anxious time of delivery. Hannah had a great deal of respect and admiration for what the older woman did.
Her attention returned to her dinner companion. Jethro’s silence gave her a lot of time to think. That could be a good thing. Or—Hannah’s mouth grew dry as she watched someone approach the door through the restaurant’s windows—a bad thing.
Appetite now completely gone, Hannah nudged her plate away. She watched Gabe stop outside the restaurant door to stomp snow from his feet. Reaching for the door handle, he glanced inside. And froze when his gaze connected with hers. Hannah sucked in a breath when he pivoted and walked back down the street. She was still watching when he turned the corner.
Mouth quivering, Hannah was concentrating on folding her napkin for the third time when she thought she heard words from across the table.
“How’s the f-fundraiser going?”
She’d have been less shocked to hear Daisy ask a question during the drive home. Eyes wide, Hannah stared at her dinner companion.
Jethro raised an eyebrow. “The f-fundraiser?” he prompted.
“Uh, ja. I—I don’t know if it’s going to happen.” Hannah pulled the napkin into her lap and proceeded to unfold it.
Jethro raised his other eyebrow.
Hannah interpreted that as asking why. She took a quick sip of water. “Uh, there doesn’t seem to be much support for it anymore. Interest was lost when Aaron Raber left. And maybe more after the storm when I... I don’t know if I’ll continue to pursue it.” Setting the glass down, she traced its condensation ring on the wooden table. Surely the man knew his mother was the primary one stifling the project.
When she glanced up, Jethro was watching her as he picked up the last roll from the basket and buttered it. Hannah hunched a shoulder at his continued attention. “Something else will come up to raise the funds.” She sighed. “The Englisch will probably do something. Someone might write another grant. The community will get local EMS service eventually.”
“Eventually,” he echoed, breaking the bread into smaller pieces. “T-takes t-time.”
“Ja,” Hannah murmured. Time that Gabe didn’t have. She cleared her throat. “It won’t be this particular person. But the community will get the help it needs at some point. Isn’t that the important part?” She tried to smile when meeting Jethro’s thoughtful gaze, but her lips kept trembling. Retrieving her napkin, she held it against her mouth until her lips were as firm as she knew her resolve needed to be.
Jethro nodded slowly, his eyes solemn. “F-finished?”
Nodding in return, Hannah stood. Yes, with anything to do with Gabe, she needed to be finished.
* * *
Gabe trudged up the stairs to his apartment, his legs heavy with the same lead that filled his stomach. If he’d needed proof that it was over between him and Hannah, he’d just had it. Shoving open the door, the first thing he saw when he looked into the room were the blue curtains at the window. He crossed the room to touch the rich fabric.
“It’s curtains for me,” he murmured as he leaned against the wall. It certainly was. It was the end of any hopes he might have of a future with Hannah. The end of his job here in town. Gabe snorted. He’d learned that bit when he’d called the office as soon as he’d replaced his phone. The administrator had heard the fundraiser was off. With no source of funds in sight, there was no choice but to terminate the position. As the budget was already running in the red, Gabe would be paid for what he’d already worked, but surely he could understand...
Gabe could understand all right. As of this weekend, he had no reason, either personally or professionally, to stay in Miller’s Creek. Too bad he’d already unpacked and disposed of the boxes.
Except for one. At the squeaks generating from a large carton, Gabe ambled over to squat down and regard its two occupants. Upon blinking their eyes open, the pups waddled over to greet him. Gabe ran a few fingers over their silky heads. Trying to reach him, they scratched with tiny paws up the side of the box. Scooping a pup in each hand, Gabe returned to the window and settled on the floor next to it with his back against the wall.
“Well, kiddos.” He set the pups on his lap. “If I love her, like I say I do, I want her to be happy.” He sighed. “Something I thought involved me being in her life. But what makes her happy is being connected with her family and community. And I complicate that. Maybe it’s a good thing the job fell through.” Gabe smiled ruefully as both pups put their paws on his chest and began licking his chin. “Because I can’t stay here and see her married to another man. I...I just can’t.”
He shifted the pups back to his lap. “But when we go, we’re taking these curtains with us. We’ll put them up in our next place. That all right with you guys? ’Cause you’re going with me. You’re part of my family now.” Gabe ran a hand down their fuzzy black backs. They felt so warm and vibrant, when he couldn’t recall being so cold, even in the midst of the blizzard.
* * *
The men were getting up from the tables, which, with much practice, had been hastily arranged after the church service. Hannah was refilling the water pitchers for the next seating while other women were clearing up from the previous one or preparing more food.
With a squeak, Hannah hastily shut off the faucet and drained some excess water from the pitcher. Gut thing she wasn’t pouring coffee today. Her mind wasn’t anywhere near her task. It was where it’d been the past four days since she last saw him. On Gabe. On the ache in her stomach, knowing she’d never see him again. She’d heard he was leaving. And why wouldn’t he? She’d chosen family and community over him. Again.
Hannah dodged through the traffic on the way to the tables, her expression grim. Maybe it was understandable that some couples were content to start their marriages with just respect. It was less unsettling than love. Hannah caught her mother’s frown of concern as Willa grabbed a cloth to wipe up the water that’d just sloshed over the rim of Hannah’s pitcher. Head lowered, Hannah continued to the table and began filling glasses.
Surely she could be happy without Gabe? She’d spent years without him, years when she’d been...beige. Hannah bit the inside of her cheek. Beige wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t...blue. But maybe blue wasn’t for her. At the end of a row, Hannah turned her back to the room, pulled the pitcher to her chest and lowered her head. Dear Gott, I trust in Your will. Help me to respect your chosen one for me and teach me to love him even a small measure of the way I love...someone else.
Draining what remained in the pitcher into the next glass with tear-bleared eyes, Hannah pivoted to return to the kitc
hen, before halting abruptly in the middle of the room. Jethro stood before her, eyes on her face. He cleared his throat. His face was so red, the white scar above his lip stood out in sharp relief.
“Hannah L-Lapp.” Hannah flinched at the unexpected volume of his voice. It was abnormally pitched to draw attention. Glancing around, she saw if that had been his intent, he’d succeeded immensely. All heads were turned in their direction. Her cheeks heated as her own color began to rise.
“I have s-something I n-need to ask you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Pinning a faltering smile on her face, Hannah braced for what Jethro might say next. Even though she knew it was what the bishop willed, inwardly, she cringed. Please don’t let him declare himself here. Please don’t let him ask to walk out with me in front of the whole community. I know my duty is to marry him, but please don’t let it start out like this.
This action seemed so out of character for taciturn Jethro, but then again, did she really know him, this man who was to be her husband, at all?
“I have some b-b-birdhouses and a b-b-bushel.” He closed his eyes in frustration of getting the words out. This was obviously as painful for him as it was for Hannah. So why was he doing it? “Of walnuts. F-for the auction. Where d-do you want them? You’re still organizing that, right? Is the d-date for it still the same?”
Hannah’s jaw sagged. She’d been braced for a question, but not this one. Should she go on with the auction? This man, who might become her husband, thought she should. And with a quick search of her heart, Hannah knew it was the right decision. Recovering from her shock, she was sorely tempted to throw her arms around the man. Reaching out the hand not holding the pitcher, she grasped his work-calloused fingers. “Oh denki, Jethro, denki,” she whispered for his ears alone.
Dropping his hand as quickly as she’d grabbed it, she cleared her throat and spoke at his previous emphatic volume. “Ja. It’s still on. The date is the same. Denki for the wunderbar contributions. If folks aren’t able to bring items the day of the auction, I... I’ll collect them at our farm.”
Her Forbidden Amish Love Page 16