by Marta Perry
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.
Unless it was raining, Hannah took Jamie for a walk in the stroller before his afternoon nap. Sometimes she went to the right out of the bakery, headed for the post office or the drugstore on an errand. More often she turned to the left, walking to the small playground that overlooked the stream.
He wanted to catch her for a talk, and he’d rather do it where neither his relatives nor hers were around to overhear. Easier said than done, he knew.
Caleb looked up from his work, stretching, and then nodded at the quilt rack William had been working on. “That new design is ser gut. We’ve sold two in the last week. Too bad the tourist season will end soon. We’d sell a lot more, for sure, if we had the customers coming in.”
William nodded, distracted from the window. “If y-you w-won’t need me s-so much then—”
“Ach, no, that’s not what I meant,” Caleb said quickly. “I’d like it fine if you were here full-time. I just wish we had more of an outlet for our business.”
Caleb was right. Business would slow down for the shop as the weather
grew colder. Stores in the bigger towns around probably weren’t so affected. An idea stirred in William’s mind, but then it skittered away as he glanced out the window.
There was Hannah, pushing the stroller, headed for the playground. Good. It would most likely be deserted this time of day.
He waited a few minutes just in case Caleb had seen her, too. Then he took a step back from the workbench, stretching as he moved out of the patch of sunlight that poured through the window.
“Think I’ll t-t-take a b-break.”
“Sure thing.” Caleb didn’t look up from the chair he was working on. “I’m going to do the same, once I set this glue to dry.”
William went quickly down the stairs, smiling at his cousin Becky, who was minding the shop. “B-b-back soon.”
Once he was out on the street, he had to force himself to slow down. Might as well give Hannah a chance to get settled, first.
Nothing wrong with giving himself a chance to think about what he was doing, either.
Still, he’d made up his mind, hadn’t he? Hannah had offered him a chance that might never come again.
He passed two more shops and came to the grassy stretch that sloped gently down toward the creek, which was shallow at this time of year. The playground was small . . . a swing set, two slides, monkey bars, and a sandbox. But that was enough to keep a child occupied.
Jamie was already in the sandbox. Hannah had said once that it was his favorite. She sat on the edge, where the wooden frame formed a narrow seat, bending forward to talk to Jamie, or maybe encourage his play.
William walked across the grass toward them, trying to plan what he would say. That made it easier, when he could think things out and find the fewest words to use.
Hannah’s voice reached him. “. . . I’ll figure it out, sweetheart. Mommy will take care of you.”
He stopped, realizing she didn’t know he was there. Realizing, too, that she probably wouldn’t want anyone to hear that.
He stood for a moment, not sure what to do. Jamie pushed a small tractor in the sand, making noises meant to sound like a motor. Hannah had fallen silent, her elbow on her knee, hand cradling her cheek.
He moved again. His shadow must have fallen across her line of vision, and she jerked back, turning her head.
“William. I didn’t hear you.” She was smiling, but it seemed to him that he could see fresh lines of strain in her face.
He blinked. “Y-you are w-w-wearing a k-kapp.”
Nodding, she patted the rough wooden bench. “Join us. Jamie is always glad to see you. Look, Jamie, it’s William.”
Jamie threw his hands up, spraying sand in all directions. Laughing at him made it easier for William to sit down, keeping a careful space between himself and Hannah.
Hannah gave him a sideways glance. “You’re surprised by the kapp, aren’t you?”
“A l-little.” Actually, a lot. Hannah dressed simply enough, but for sure not Plain. Still, all the different groups of Mennonites had their own traditions.
“I thought . . .” She let that trail off. “I remember my mother telling me about the kapp when I was little. About how it made sure our heads were covered when we wanted to pray.” Her lips curved a little, as if that was a nice memory.
“Ja. I r-remember m-my mamm s-saying that t-t-to one of my s-sisters.” So much for his planning what he was going to say. This talk had gone in a different direction before he’d even gotten started. “S-so that’s why?” He indicated the kapp, white against the rich brown of her hair.
“I guess.” She sounded as if there was more, but she didn’t go on.
He bent, picking up a plastic horse and sending it galloping toward Jamie’s tractor. Jamie giggled and grabbed for it. Rachel used to say, when her kids were this age, that toddlers thought everything they touched belonged to them.
“I thought it would make my aunt happy.” Hannah’s voice was so soft that she might have been talking to herself. “I didn’t realize . . .”
“W-what?” He tried to keep his voice as low as hers, his gaze on Jamie.
Hannah sighed, putting her hand to her cheek again as if to comfort herself. “She thought that meant I would stay, join the church, be what she thinks is best for me.”
The words set up an echo in his mind. A lot of people seemed to think they knew what was best for someone else.
“D-don’t you w-w-want to?”
Hannah had seemed happy here, and Jamie was thriving. What was in the outside world that made staying here seem impossible?
If he could speak like most folks, he could say all that to her. But he couldn’t. He’d have to trust she understood what he was thinking.
He buried his fingers in the sand and then popped them up, making Jamie laugh. He immediately tried to bury his own little hand, and William helped him.
“It’s so hard.” Hannah almost sounded as if she were talking to herself. “Travis . . . I owe him so much. I have to bring Jamie up the way he would want. He gave his life for his country.”
Did she think that the Anabaptist belief in nonviolence was a betrayal of her husband?
She moved slightly, drawing his gaze. “You understand, don’t you? I have to bring Jamie up to admire and respect his father’s memory.”
“J-ja.” He did understand. She thought the only way she could be true to her husband’s memory was to turn away from her own heritage.
“So I’ll have to go sometime.” She straightened her slim shoulders, as if preparing to carry a burden. “I’ll have to.”
“S-sometime,” he said. “I h-hope not t-t-too soon. I w-wanted to s-say yes.”
Her smile dispelled the clouds. “You’re going to let me help you?”
“J-ja. Afternoons okay?”
She nodded, looking as if he’d given her a present, instead of the other way around. “Let’s start tomorrow. Say Tuesday and Thursday around two. Will that work?”
“J-ja. Unless I h-h-have to h-help my brother.”
He didn’t want to tell Isaac he couldn’t help on the farm because he was working on his stammer. In fact, it would be better if Isaac didn’t know anything about the lessons. He didn’t want to be answering a lot of questions about them.
She glanced at him, and he noticed that a strand of brown hair had pulled loose from her bun to curl against her cheek. It made him want to touch it.
“Is Isaac why you want to do this?” she asked quietly.
He shrugged. That was his usual response when he didn’t want to talk about something. But maybe that was unfair to Hannah, who was going out of her way to help him when she had troubles enough of her own.
“E-everyone t-tells me what I sh-should be d-doing. S-seems like a grown-up sh-should figure that out h-h-himself.”
She stared at him for a long moment, as if his words had struck something in her. “Yes,” she said finally. “A grown-up should.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The disagreement with Aunt Paula the previous day seemed to have shaken her aunt nearly as much as it had Hannah. All morning they’d been carefully polite to each other, so much so that Naomi had given them a curious look now and then.
Coming back downstairs after settling Jamie for his nap, Hannah clutched the notebook in which she’d designed a simple outline for her first session with William. He’d be arriving soon, but there was one thing yet to be settled.
Aunt Paula glanced at the notebook. “You’re ready to start, ja?” She sounded more nearly herself than she had all morning. “This is a gut thing you’re doing, Hannah.”
“I hope so.” She pressed her hand against her midsection, where a troupe of butterflies seemed to be fluttering. “I’m as nervous as if I were facing a final exam.”
“You’ll do fine.” Aunt Paula wiped her hands on her apron and then
patted her shoulder. “Have faith.”
“I’m trying,” she said. “Is it okay if we work upstairs?”
The instant she said the words her aunt’s lips tightened, and she knew she’d made a misstep.
“That would not be suitable.” Aunt Paula gestured toward the round tables. “Why can’t you work here?”
Paula’s house, Paula’s rules, Hannah reminded herself. Something that would seem perfectly harmless in the outside world wasn’t proper in Paula’s view.
“I don’t think William would be comfortable working with me where anyone looking in the windows might see. If he doesn’t relax and feel at ease, we won’t get anywhere.”
Aunt Paula looked ready to argue the point, but Naomi intervened.
“What about the bakery kitchen?” she asked. “We won’t have to go back there this time of day, so you and William can work in peace.”
Hannah looked at her aunt. Was their disagreement over Megan’s visit going to color everything she wanted to do?
“Ja, that sounds fine.” Aunt Paula’s expression eased. “Naomi is right.”
Hannah shot Naomi a look of thanks. “Great. I’ll go and set up.” She glanced at the clock. “William should be here in about fifteen minutes. Jamie went down for his nap a little faster than I thought he might.”
Naomi smiled. “He tired himself out this morning, I think.”
Naomi had brought Jamie a small wooden wagon this morning, one she said her brothers had played with when they were small. Jamie had been entranced, filling it up with blocks, wheeling it around, tipping them out, and then doing it all over again.
“He loves the wagon, all right. That was so kind of you, Naomi.” She’d learned that complimenting an Amish person was a tricky thing to do, since they didn’t want to appear prideful about something they’d done.
Naomi smiled, ducking her head a little in that typically Amish gesture that might mean almost anything.