by Marta Perry
William shook his head. “No. I m-must do this myself.” He shrugged, spreading his hands. “Isaac has b-been staying clear of m-me for a time. Saying s-something about w-waiting until I komm to my s-senses.”
Caleb grinned. “Reminds me of Ezra. Remember how he dealt with Isaac’s bossiness? Ezra always listened politely to Isaac’s advice. Then he’d go ahead and do what he’d planned all along.”
William nodded, a lump in his throat when he thought of his middle brother. Ezra had been gone for several years now, but William still missed him.
“Of course, Ezra was living on his own by that time,” Caleb said, his voice casual. “That made a difference.”
“Ja. It did.” Was Caleb suggesting he should move away from the farm? It was a tempting thought, but it would cause trouble for sure.
Still, he might do better to adopt Ezra’s method. Since he didn’t seem able to get anywhere by trying to explain his feelings to his brother, silence might be the answer.
It rankled, that he hadn’t been able to speak his mind to Isaac. His speech was improving; he knew it. Except when it counted.
A flutter of movement on the sidewalk caught his eye. Hannah came toward him, pushing Jamie in the stroller. Not an unusual sight except for one thing—she was wearing Plain dress.
Caleb nudged him. “There’s Hannah. When did she start dressing Mennonite?”
“I-I don’t know.” Not long ago, that was sure.
As she neared, William realized Hannah’s cheeks were flushed. She must be aware that people were taking note of what she had on.
The stroller slowed. Was she regretting letting so many people see her at once? Without stopping to think about it, he walked quickly toward her, leaving Caleb standing there staring after him.
“Hannah. Jamie.” William bent to respond to the boy’s shouted greeting and straightened, regarding her seriously. “You are dressing Plain, ain’t so?”
She nodded, the pink in her cheeks deepening. “I’m attracting attention. I didn’t do it for that. Maybe I should go home.”
“Folks w-will get used to it soon, for sure. Just g-give them time.”
The dress was a soft shade of blue, not so very different from the denim jumper she often wore. But dressing Plain was like an announcement for Hannah, saying she belonged here.
“I hope so.” She brushed the skirt with her palm. “This was my mother’s.”
Jamie, maybe tired of being left out, grabbed hold of William’s pant leg and tugged. “Will, up. Up.”
He smiled, bending as Jamie held up his arms. In a moment he’d lifted him, holding the boy high in his arms. “There. Now are y-you happy?”
Jamie patted his face, grinning. “Will,” he declared again.
“Good talking, Jamie.” Hannah smiled at her son. “But you’re working, William. We shouldn’t take you away from that.”
“It’s t-time I had a b-break.” He nodded toward the dress. “P-Paula must be p-pleased. What made you decide?”
She hesitated, as if not sure how to answer that, her hand stroking the material of her skirt. “Megan called me,” she said finally. “I . . . I confronted her about what she’d done, talking to Robert Conroy that way. She wasn’t even sorry. She thinks she knows what’s best for me better than I do.”
That didn’t really explain why it had made her want to dress Plain. He suspected there were things she wasn’t telling him, but that was her right.
Her gaze darted to his face and slid away again. “Aunt Paula had saved everything my mother left behind. I think she felt one day we’d come back and want it.”
“A-and you d-do,” he said.
“Yes. I was looking at the dresses, thinking about why my mother left and how she let other people decide things for her.” She smiled, and her voice was stronger, more definite. “And I knew I should decide for myself. So I did.”
“That i-is g-gut.” He bounced Jamie in his arms, and Jamie giggled. Gut, he thought. Hannah was making a commitment to life here. And even though she didn’t want more from him than friendship, he was glad that she would be around.
“Y-you will be h-here tomorrow, ja?”
From the corner of his eye he noted a car moving slowly along the street near the curb. The driver craned his neck, probably intrigued at the sight of so many Plain people.
Hannah nodded. “We’ll set up our stand early. Aunt Paula says people will be wanting their coffee and sweet roll the minute they get here.”
She glanced back across the street as she spoke, toward the bakery. The car William had noticed pulled to the curb and parked. The door swung open, and the driver got out.
Next to him, William felt Hannah stiffen. She grasped his arm, her fingers digging into his skin. Her creamy skin lost its color, and her brown eyes looked stricken.
“Hannah? Was ist letz?” His heart thudded uncomfortably.
“I can’t believe it.” Her voice sounded strangled. “That man . . . it’s Travis’s father. Robert Conroy.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hannah absorbed the shock, vaguely aware that she was clutching William’s arm. She let go, realizing through the chaos in her thoughts that seeing her with William would give Travis’s father the worst possible impression.
Robert stood by the car, dark glasses hiding his expression. She sensed that he was taking in the scene, and was perhaps not in a hurry to confront her.
She forced herself to take a deep breath as she murmured a silent prayer. Please, give me the right words.
Maybe she should have prayed that before she’d hung up on Robert after that disastrous conversation. That must have been what brought him here.
Robert had come east for his son’s funeral. Not for their wedding, not even for Jamie’s birth. But he was here now, walking toward her with rigid military posture.
Hannah tried to manage a smile of welcome, imagining the scene as he must see it. What an ironic twist of timing, that she had chosen today to dress Plain. And William stood beside her, Jamie on his shoulder, waiting with her as if they belonged together.
Robert stopped a few feet from her and greeted her with a crisp nod as he took off the sunglasses. Short-cropped gray hair, steely gray eyes, still muscular at sixty but with a slight paunch that emphasized his barrel chest . . .
Travis hadn’t looked much like his father. He’d had his late mother’s curly brown hair and quick smile.
“Robert. It’s nice to see you.” She debated whether to kiss his cheek, but nothing about his attitude suggested that would be welcome. “We didn’t expect your visit.”
“I thought I’d surprise you.” His gaze swept William, and it annoyed her that he didn’t immediately focus on his grandson.
“This is my friend William Brand.”
William ducked his head in the slight nod that passed for a greeting with him. With a slight jolt, she realized that he was assessing Robert just as Robert was sizing him up.
“And this is Jamie, of course.” She gestured toward her son, and William set Jamie on the ground, his big hand lingering reassuringly on Jamie’s shoulder for a moment.
“Jamie, say hi to Grandpa.” She stumbled over the word. She’d shown Jamie photos, but at his age, he wasn’t likely to remember anyone from a picture.
Robert stared at him for a moment, his face seeming to soften a little. “Hi, Jamie.”
“Hi.” Jamie’s vocabulary was limited, but he could usually be trusted to greet people. Then he promptly hid his face in her skirt.
Hannah touched his curls. “He doesn’t talk a lot yet.”
Robert cleared his throat. “Good-looking boy. Looks like his daddy.”
“Yes, I think so,” Hannah said softly, and for a moment there seemed to be a bridge between them.
Robert put his gla
sses back on, maybe wanting to hide his feelings. He glanced around. “What’s going on here?”
“We’re getting ready for tomorrow’s auction.” Talking about anything other than Travis seemed desirable. “Twice a year the community has a big fundraiser. Everybody pitches in.”
Robert nodded, seeming to make an effort to express interest. “Got some community project to raise money for?”
“N-no,” William answered, startling Hannah. “F-for others.”
“The money goes to Disaster Relief,” she said. “This year it will be mainly for flooding and tornado victims down south.”
Robert nodded, but she suspected he really didn’t care what the people of Pleasant Valley were doing. He’d come to see her.
She caught a look of support from William. Comforting as it was, there was nothing William could do to help her. She’d have to deal with Robert on her own, and that was considerably harder now that there wasn’t a continent between them.
“My aunt’s place is across the street and down a little way.”
Her mind raced. Where were they going to put a male visitor? Maybe she could set up a cot for herself in Jamie’s room.
“I’d like to see it. I got a room at a motel in Mifflinburg. Seems to be the closest.”
“You’re welcome to stay with us.” She bent to put Jamie in his stroller, just as glad to hide her face for a moment, so he wouldn’t see her relief that he didn’t intend to do that.
“I’ll be better at the motel.”
There didn’t seem anything to do but to spring him on Aunt Paula. She glanced at William. “Good luck with the building. We’ll be over early in the morning to set up.”
“Ja.” He gave Robert another fleeting glance and headed off to where Caleb was working.
“This way.” She started back the way she’d come. “You can leave your car here, if you like.”
Robert walked beside her. “That friend of yours.” He said the words as if he didn’t like the taste. “Doesn’t he speak English?”
“William is Amish. He speaks both English and Pennsylvania Dutch. That’s a form of German that’s common around here.”
She almost said something about William’s speech problems, but stopped. That wasn’t any concern of Robert’s, and it might sound as if she were trying to explain away their friendship, which also wasn’t Robert’s concern.
“So the costumes . . .”
She winced at the word. “Not costumes. The Amish and some Mennonites wear Plain dress. It’s part of their beliefs.”
Our beliefs. Was she denying that already?
“I don’t get it,” he said bluntly. “Why would you want to be part of a church that makes you dress that way?” He gestured toward her outfit.
She sought for a way of explaining that he’d understand without getting into four centuries of history. People here in rural Pennsylvania had grown up with the differences, and for the most part accepted them as the way things were.
But for someone like Robert, everything that was so comforting to her was alien. Odd, she supposed he’d say.
“When you wore a uniform, you showed where you belonged,” she said. “And that you obeyed the army’s rules in regard to dress. We dress Plain for the same reason.”
His face seemed to harden, even though he didn’t say anything. Obviously he didn’t understand. Or he understood, but was confirmed in his opposition.
“Here’s my aunt’s bakery.” She turned toward the door, not sure whether to be relieved or even more nervous at the thought of bringing Robert and Aunt Paula together. “We’re having a busy day getting ready for tomorrow. We’ll have a stand at the auction, you see, and we have to be there early.”
She was babbling. That meant she was more nervous than relieved.
She reached for the door, and Jamie tried to stand in the stroller, knowing they were home. Robert reached for the door, holding it closed.
She glanced at him, startled.
“You’re wondering why I’m here.”
“Yes, I suppose I am.” She could hardly deny that or pretend his visit wasn’t a shock.
“I’m a reasonable man,” he said.
She nodded, although from everything Travis had said about his father, reasonable wasn’t a word she’d have chosen.
“I decided I shouldn’t take someone else’s word on something this important. So I’ve come to see for myself how you’re raising my grandchild.”
She should be relieved at that. The words were reasonable. So why did she sense an implied threat in them?
* * *
The bakery stand had been busy from the moment they’d opened at eight this morning. Hannah had been thankful—she’d needed that respite from worrying about the meaning of Robert’s visit.
Now, though, the midmorning lull had set in, and they weren’t busy enough to keep her thoughts from circling. She kept replaying, again and again, everything that had happened after Robert appeared in Pleasant Valley.
Not that there’d been any open warfare after his unexpected arrival, but she’d had the feeling, through what was left of the day, that he was watching her every move critically.
It hadn’t helped that Aunt Paula hadn’t tried very hard to hide her unhappiness with Robert’s visit. She hadn’t been openly hostile, but she’d seemed intent on emphasizing the closeness of her bond with Jamie, in contrast with the nonexistent one between Jamie and Robert, and how different Jamie’s life was here.
A mug of tea appeared on the counter in front of Hannah. “You are worrying. That’s not good for you.” Aunt Paula shoved a stool toward her. “Sit, relax for a little. Do you want a sticky bun?”
Hannah accepted the stool, glad to be off her feet for a moment, but she shook her head at the sticky bun. Sugar wasn’t going to help her think this situation through.
“How can I help but worry? I don’t understand why Robert would come all this way.”
Aunt Paula’s forehead wrinkled. “You said he told you why he is here. That he just wants to make sure Jamie is all right.”
“That’s not exactly what he said.”
She sipped at the tea . . . Irish Breakfast sweetened with some of Naomi’s honey. Hannah needed the warmth, as the sun hadn’t yet reached their booth to take the morning chill off. It was a gentle reminder that despite the warm days, autumn was settling in.
“You think he wants to cause trouble?” Aunt Paula shook her head in disagreement. “I can’t see it myself. In all this time since you met Travis, Robert has barely shown an interest in you. Or in Jamie, his own grandson. Why should he all of a sudden care where you live?”
“I don’t know why, but I know he does.” Hannah struggled with an explanation. As wise and capable as her aunt was, she’d had little experience of the world outside Pleasant Valley. “You have to understand that Robert doesn’t know a thing about Amish and Mennonites. His whole life has been the army. I guess he’s concerned that I might not be bringing up Jamie the way his father would want.”
“From what you’ve said, he wasn’t that wonderful gut a father to his own son.” Aunt Paula hesitated, with a sense of weighing both sides. “Although I suppose he might feel guilty about that now that Travis is gone. Folks feel that way, sometimes, regretting the things they said and didn’t say once it’s too late. Maybe Robert has some thought of making amends.”
Hannah realized she had done Aunt Paula a disservice by thinking she couldn’t understand Robert. Her aunt understood people, and at heart, people were the same, whatever their background.
“You might be right. And if that’s the case, it’s all the more important that we show him that Pleasant Valley is a good place to bring up Jamie. Don’t you see? Robert is Jamie’s link to Travis. I must keep peace with him.”
Her aunt seemed to absorb
that. “Ja, I see,” she said slowly. “I have not been a gut example of a peacemaker, have I? The bishop would be sore disappointed in me.” She smiled ruefully, wrinkles deepening around her eyes. “I am sorry, Hannah. I made this situation harder for you.”
Hannah couldn’t deny that, but she clasped her aunt’s hand. “Just try to be nice to him. For Jamie’s sake.”
Aunt Paula nodded. “Still, I wish—”
Whatever that wish was, Hannah wasn’t destined to hear it. Paula dropped the thought when Naomi hurried to the counter laden down with another box of baked goods.
“Ach, so many people are here already,” Naomi said. “I could hardly get the box through the crowd.” She spoke in dialect.
Without conscious thought, Hannah answered in the same tongue. “We were ready for more baked goods, that’s certain-sure.”
And then she stopped, realizing that Robert Conroy had stepped up to the counter beside Naomi. He had heard her speak, and he was looking at her as if she’d just sprouted another head.
“Good morning, Robert.” English, she reminded herself.
“Morning.”
Naomi took a quick look at his face and scurried behind the counter, busying herself with unpacking the carton.
“Can I get you a coffee?” Aunt Paula smiled at him, and Hannah hoped he didn’t notice the tension around her eyes. “And maybe a donut?”
He shook his head, his gaze sweeping the stand. “Where’s Jamie?” His tone was sharp.
Hannah had to remind herself to follow her own advice: Answer peacefully, no matter how brusque he seemed.
“Some of the teenagers are watching the young children, safely out of the way of the crowd.” She slipped from the booth. “Come, I’ll show you where he is. You can stay and play with him, if you want.”
Robert looked at her as if the word play wasn’t in his vocabulary. He walked beside her when she headed for the children’s section, his shoulders stiff as they maneuvered through the congested area.
But it was a friendly crowd, surely he saw that. People were intent on getting good buys, but they also knew every penny was going to charity, and they were in a happy, generous mood.