by Amy Clipston
He made it a point to know her schedule. Heat warmed Hannah’s cheeks. After two years of steady attention from this man, she felt comfortable around him. Almost. She’d given her heart to Thaddeus and look how that ended. She poured Phillip’s coffee and returned the pot to its rightful place. Her hand didn’t shake. Not much anyway. She tugged her pencil from behind her ear. “The usual?”
She worked to keep her voice nonchalant. He’s just another customer. No one special.
“Jah.” He tossed the menu on the black Formica counter and then patted the stool next to him. “Can you sit? It should be time for your break.”
Close. Too close. Too many eyes watching. “I shouldn’t. It’s not a gut idea.”
“Do we have to have this discussion every time?” He sighed and shoved his straw hat back, revealing his bangs. His skin was smooth and his chin whiskerless. He was at least twenty-one—a year older than Thaddeus would be now—but he looked younger. Like a teenager. “People don’t expect you to remain single the rest of your life. You took your punishment. You repented. You’ve been forgiven. If you don’t court, you can never move on with your life.”
Moving on with her life meant trusting someone again. Hard to do after the man Hannah loved left Jamesport for the RV factories in Indiana rather than marry her and be a father to his child. Either she hadn’t been worthy of Thaddeus’s love or he hadn’t been worthy of hers. Either way, she’d committed a terrible sin, and Evie had no father in her life.
A baby punished for her mother’s sins.
How would she explain this to Evie when she grew old enough to wonder why other little girls had daddies and she didn’t?
That day loomed like a future specter of pain for a daughter who, for now, loved without judgment and without limit.
“Sit.” Phillip patted the stool a second time. His huge hands were callused from his work as a carpenter. He had a puffy red scar across his knuckles on one hand. A saw gone wild during his apprentice days? “Or sit two stools down. No one will realize we’re together. Or care. I promise.”
All the customers at this moment, miraculously, were Englishers. Hannah put in his order, then removed an enormous raisin cinnamon roll from the bakery case, laid it on a saucer, and slid onto a stool—one seat down from his, just in case.
He rolled his eyes—which made him look even more like a teenager—and sipped his coffee. “You’re a funny girl, Hannah Kauffman.”
“I’m not a girl. I’m nineteen and all grown-up. I’m a mudder.” A mother with responsibilities and no desire to make any more mistakes. “But I’m glad I can entertain you.”
His smile widened. “Always. How’s Evie’s cold?”
“It’s not a cold, according to Laura. She says it’s allergies.” Hannah told him about her own sneeze and the customers. “I lost a tip there.”
“You live with Laura and Zechariah. You help with Zechariah in exchange for Laura watching Evie. You shouldn’t have many bills to pay.”
True, but she liked to pull her own weight. Laura and Zechariah didn’t have much. Zechariah’s Parkinson’s disease meant regular medical bills, big bills. They shouldn’t have to pay for her and Evie’s food and clothes. Allowing them to live with them was a gift itself. Laura had been her safe harbor since the day Hannah rushed from her parents’ home to find her great-grandmother and tell her about her terrible sin before others could.
Laura had done enough for her and Evie. “I don’t want to take advantage. They have enough on their plate.”
“You’re off tomorrow. Come out with me tonight after you put Evie to bed. Or you can bring her. You know I love Evie.” No doubt, he did care for Evie. Sometimes he spent more time trying to make her laugh than he did talking to Hannah. She liked that about Phillip. Among other things. He was kind and considerate. “We’ll go for a ride and enjoy the spring weather. The purple martins are returning. Maybe we’ll see some.”
Like many in their Plain community, Phillip was an avid bird watcher. He sometimes dropped by the house to chat with Zechariah about the older man’s favorite topic. He could no longer walk more than a few yards with his walker, so he relied on Phillip’s play-by-play of the latest sightings.
And Phillip got his own sightings of Hannah. At least, that’s what he told her.
The bell dinged, and Jolene barked, “Order up.”
Saved by the bell. Hannah hopped up, trotted around the counter, and picked up Phillip’s plate. What would it be like to serve him breakfast every morning? In their own house. Kneading the bread. Making sure ketchup was on the table. The smell of bacon filled her nose. The sound of Evie’s sweet giggle when Phillip tickled her as he put her in the wooden high chair Hannah had used as a baby.
Nice. It would be nice.
And maybe people would stop looking at her and Evie with that sour look or, worse, that pitying look. Maybe they would forget as well as forgive.
Another bell dinged, a deeper, more melodic sound. Like wind chimes. It heralded the entrance of a new customer. Hannah glanced at the door. The plate slipped from her hands and crashed to the floor.
No, no, no. It couldn’t be.
Thaddeus Yoder stood just inside the door. His gaze held her prisoner. “There you are.”
CHAPTER 2
After two years of silence, her child’s father stood before her in the Purple Martin Café. Hannah grabbed a tray and squatted behind the counter. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her hands shook. Her stomach heaved. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.
She gathered pieces of broken china dripping with egg yolk and dropped them on the tray. Her brain urged her to peek, to make sure her eyes hadn’t played a trick on her, but her legs refused to cooperate.
“You’re having a bad day, aren’t you?” Burke loomed over her, then knelt and began to help her. “Are you sick? You look green around the gills.”
“That’s Evie’s father.” Hannah managed a whisper. Her voice didn’t shake. Hardly at all. “Please . . . please look to see if he’s coming this way.”
Burke’s gray eyebrows rose and fell. He grabbed the counter and hoisted himself up, then returned to her level. “The tall guy at the door?” He whispered. “He’s still standing there like he doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.”
“Knowing Thaddeus, he’s going.” A spurt of anger rushed through Hannah. It felt good. Strong. Fierce. “He should go. He doesn’t belong here. It’s been two years.”
“But he’s here now.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Phillip leaned over the counter and bellowed. His face turned red. “You have company, Hannah. Company you should send away.”
“I’m thinking she can decide for herself.” Thaddeus’s face appeared next to Phillip’s. His voice hadn’t changed. Deep, slow, and sweet as honey. His eyes found hers. “I came home to see you and my baby.”
Hannah catapulted to her feet.
“Your baby?” More than half the seats in the restaurant were filled with customers enjoying their breakfasts. She managed to keep her voice down to a furious whisper. “This is not the time or the place, Thaddeus Yoder. Go. You want to know how the baby is, write me a letter.” She pointed at the door. “You still know how to write, don’t you?”
In two years, she hadn’t received a single letter from him. Not even an inquiry about the baby’s birth or health or if it was a boy or a girl. He had shown her he didn’t care. Not one iota.
He didn’t get to show up now and act like he did.
“Can I know how you are?” His hands gripped the counter. His knuckles turned white. His voice had turned soft and hesitant. So similar to the voice that whispered sweet words of love in her ear eons ago. “You look gut.”
So did he. The same broad shoulders and mop of curly black hair under his straw hat. The same sapphire eyes. She’d allowed herself to sink against that chest once, to let his long arms wrap her in a hug that went on and on, to feel his full, warm lips on her lips, cheeks, neck, and collar
bone.
A shiver raced up her spine and spread across her shoulders. Heat curled around her neck and scorched her cheeks. For those brief moments of sheer pleasure, she had paid and paid. For two years, she’d been the object of whispers and stares. She’d been forced to sink to her knees in confession before her family and friends. She spent six weeks in the bann. She gave birth to a child and was raising her without a husband. Members of her district said they forgave her this terrible sin, but they had not forgotten.
Thaddeus had refused to repent or be punished. He fled. As a result, he could have no direct contact with any member of his community.
“Do the Plain folks act differently in Nappanee?” Her voice was low, but steady. “Do they speak of these things in public?”
“Nee. I just couldn’t wait any longer. Mattie wouldn’t tell me anything about the baby. She said it wasn’t her place.” His gaze, suddenly fierce, went to Phillip. “Do you mind? This is a personal conversation.”
“You don’t get to have personal conversations with Hannah, not after what you did to her. Or with any member of the Gmay.” Phillip stood. He was taller and thinner than Thaddeus, but his expression said he was every bit as determined. “You need to leave. The bishop will hear about this.”
“Phillip, please.” Hannah shook her head at him. “I can handle this.”
A mutinous glare on his face, Phillip sat and wrapped his hands around his mug. Hannah faced Thaddeus. “Mattie was right. If you wanted to know about your daughter, you should have admitted your mistake, taken your punishment.”
Mattie might be Thaddeus’s sister, but she remained a loyal friend to Hannah. One of the few who hadn’t abandoned her in her time of need.
“What do you think I’m doing here?” His gaze held hers. The customers, Burke, even Phillip, seemed to disappear into the background. The air crackled with electricity, with all the words not spoken in two years. All the emotion forced down and buried by the weight of their shared experience. “I just want to see my baby before I do it. I went to the dawdy haus. Zechariah wouldn’t let me in. He said only by-your-leave.”
Thaddeus only wanted to see Evie, not Hannah. He’d waited two years. He could wait another fifty.
Would that be fair to Evie? Thaddeus was her father. What if he showed up in his daughter’s life only to abandon her again? What kind of damage would that do?
“Just go.”
“At least tell me the baby’s name.”
“Evelyn Rose. For Mammi’s mother.”
“A girl.” His voice broke. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He cleared his throat. “I’ll wait for you at Zechariah’s. They won’t let me come in, but that’s okay. I’ll wait outside for as long as I have to. Whatever it takes to prove to you I’ve changed.”
“You want to prove you’ve changed? Go to the bishop. Tell him you’re ready to repent and make your confession.”
He wavered a second longer. “I’m sorry, just so you know.” He turned and walked to the door with that same loose-limbed amble that made her notice him when she was a sixteen-year-old attending her first singing. He glanced back at her. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
He slipped through the door and let it close behind him without a sound.
Burke popped up and lifted the tray filled with the remnants of Phillip’s breakfast. Hannah took it from him. He shouldn’t be cleaning up her messes. “I’ll get the mop.”
Hannah turned to Phillip. “You should go. Leo will be wondering what happened to you.”
“Don’t make the same mistake twice.”
“This isn’t the place for this conversation.”
“Nee, it’s not.” Phillip stood and tossed a few bills on the table. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
“I’ll get you a fried egg and bacon on an English muffin to go.” Smiling, Burke knocked on the counter. “On the house. It’s a long time until lunch.”
“Danki, but it’s not necessary.”
Burke disappeared through the kitchen doors. Hannah moved to follow.
“Will I see you tonight?”
The pent-up emotion in Phillip’s voice squeezed her heart. Hannah turned back. The misery on his face made her want to look away. He was such a good man. He didn’t deserve her mess. The image of another encounter between Thaddeus and Phillip played in her head. She shuddered. “Not tonight. Okay? Give me some time to work this out.”
“Whatever you need.”
He whirled and strode away. The bell dinged. The door banged this time.
She breathed and pushed through the kitchen doors. Burke stood at the sink, washing his hands.
“I’m sorry for all this drama. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
Burke dried his hands with meticulous care. His smile reminded her of her father before she’d broken his heart. “I know you think I’m older than the hills, but I actually remember what it feels like to be in love.” A strange look, almost like pain, filtered over his face. “It can be the most wonderful and the most horrific feeling in the world.”
Burke had a lady friend who visited from Virginia every few months. Occasionally, he turned the restaurant over to its former owner, Ezekiel Miller, and went to Virginia. According to Nicole, he’d been married once, but his wife and daughter both died.
Nicole claimed to know the details, but Hannah cut her off. She refused to gossip. She knew firsthand the damage gossip could do.
Nor should she be discussing matters of love with an English man, even one as nice as her boss. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
Burke chuckled. “I can tell by the way you looked out there. Like you didn’t know whether to hurl or smack someone with a broom.” He hung the towel on its rack and turned back to her. “It may be hard for you to see right now, but God has a plan for you. Scripture promises He takes everything and makes it work for your good. You can count on Him.”
She nodded and tugged her order pad from her apron. Time to focus on work. Something she knew how to do. Burke’s words echoed ones Laura often spoke. Hannah had given up trying to understand God’s plan. One thing was for certain, however. Evie was good. No matter the circumstances of her birth, she was a gift. A joy.
The rest of it was painful and hurtful and a mess. If God planned to make something good of it, she wished He would get on with it. She tried to pray, but how did a woman pray about such a shameful sin?
She couldn’t even say the words to herself, let alone to God.
CHAPTER 3
Some things never changed. Thaddeus hopped from his brother-inlaw’s buggy and stared at his childhood home. Someone—probably his dad and brothers-in-law—had added a fresh coat of white paint, but otherwise the two-story wood-frame house looked the same. Neat as a pin and surrounded by a sea of blooming pink coneflowers; vincas in white and purple; red, orange, and yellow feather flowers; star-patterned petunias in purple and red; verbena in purple and pink; and butter daises, brilliantly yellow.
His mother, whose favorite colors were purple and pink, had outdone herself this year, as she did every year. Some of his best memories were of kneeling in the dirt and helping her weed the flower garden. She sang out the names of the flowers, then quizzed him. Everyone should know the names of flowers, she said, even boys.
His father hadn’t agreed, but then Declan Yoder wouldn’t know a petunia from a pansy. The vegetable and flower gardens were the only places his mother kept neat and orderly. The house, on the other hand, was always a mess. His dad kept the yard, the barn, every inch of his farm, neat.
The reunion with Hannah was messy too. Just as Thaddeus had imagined. Painfully so. A man couldn’t expect any different from a woman he abandoned. A woman in the family way. A woman left to face the censure of her community alone.
How could she ever forgive him? He couldn’t forgive himself. How could he make it up to her?
It didn’t seem possible.
She looked the same. Better even, if better was possible for such a lovely girl. Motherhoo
d looked good on her. She was a little fuller in the right places. She had her mother’s orangey-red hair and a light smattering of freckles on china-doll skin, but it was her eyes that captured him. Summertime blue. Swan Lake blue. Her eyes sparkled when she was about to tease him, which she often did. They were like the sun shining on the water.
He’d known her since childhood, but she first caught his attention—really caught it—at a singing. She was sixteen and brimming with an energy that couldn’t be harnessed.
Asking her to let him carry her home in his buggy had been the best thing he’d ever done.
Then he ruined it.
Stop procrastinating. Get this over with. He couldn’t stay here. It wouldn’t be right, but he had to let his parents know he was back, out of respect. Maybe his dad would have suggestions for where he might get work.
He needed a place to stay and a job. He would confess, repent, take his punishment. Then he could prove himself to Hannah. He would show her he intended to stay and be the man she’d fallen in love with.
He had to move quickly. The words in his sister’s letter fueled every step he took.
Come back before it’s too late, bruder. Phillip has set his sights on Hannah. I see the way he looks at her when he thinks no one is watching. He eats at the café every day. He looks at her the way you once did. Come back to your family. Come back to Hannah and your baby. Now.
Now. Thaddeus took a deep breath, strode around the house to the back porch, and stomped up the stairs. The windows were open. The sweet, mouthwatering aroma of chocolate cake wafted through open windows. His mother’s face appeared in the window over the kitchen sink. Her shriek advertised the moment she saw him.
“Thaddeus!” Her face disappeared.
A second later, the screen door opened, and she shot onto the porch. Arms open wide, she enveloped him in a hug. She smelled of vanilla and coffee.
He gently extricated himself. “Hey, Mudder. How are you?”
“Gut, gut.” She looked him over. “You’re too thin. Didn’t Bertie feed you?”