Hannah's Joy

by Marta Perry

She flashed back, just for an instant, to the one-room school where she’d gone as a child. She hadn’t been aware of missing anything. But now, with computers in every classroom and small children with cell phones . . . could she really say that Jamie wouldn’t be missing anything if she made that choice?

  Robert must have sensed her hesitation, because he leaned across the table toward her. “Jamie’s education is important. Isn’t it?”

  “It’s not the only important thing. Anyway, I don’t have to send Jamie to a Mennonite school, even if we stay here. He can attend the public elementary school, which has a very good reputation.”

  The server brought their food then, and Hannah felt a relief at the interruption. She didn’t want to be thinking of her future with Robert’s eyes on her, weighing her every word, her every expression. Seeing doubts . . . or maybe sowing doubts. Perhaps that was what he intended.

  But even if Robert had a point, could she possibly walk away as easily as she’d come?

  She was concentrating on convincing Jamie to have some scrambled egg when she realized Robert was waving to someone, half-rising from his seat. Who did he know in Pleasant Valley to wave to?

  She sucked in a breath. She couldn’t imagine how Robert would have met him, but she knew the older man coming toward them, a woman who was probably his wife in tow. It was Phil Russo, the veteran who’d introduced himself to her at the park.

  “Hey, it’s nice to see you again.” Robert stood, shaking hands. “As you can see, I followed your advice about the restaurant.” He gestured to her. “This is my daughter-in-law, Hannah Conroy. And my grandson, Jamie Conroy.”

  Phil smiled, looking cherubic and not at all as if this meeting had been set up. “I already know Hannah and Jamie. Hey, buddy, it’s good to see you.” He patted Jamie’s head.

  Jamie grabbed for his hand, and Hannah shook her head at him. “Better not let him get too close, or you’ll be wearing his lunch on your shirt.”

  “I don’t mind that. We’ve got grandkids of our own, don’t we, Nancy? This is my wife, Nancy. Honey, this is the young woman I told you about. The one who—”

  “Works with her aunt at the bakery,” his wife finished for him, smiling and perhaps changing what he’d intended to say. Nancy’s mop of gray curls and the bright blue eyes in a tanned face seemed familiar. “I know Hannah from the bakery. And little Jamie.”

  “Yes, of course,” Hannah replied. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember your name.”

  “Don’t think a thing about it,” Nancy said. “You can’t be expected to know everyone who comes into the bakery.”

  “Join us, please.” Robert pulled out the chair next to him. “We’d love to have you.”

  Hannah could hardly object, even though she felt quite certain this wasn’t the accidental encounter Robert wanted her to believe. In a few minutes the two of them were settled at the table, and the server appeared to take their orders.

  “How did you two happen to meet?” Hannah looked from Robert to Phil.

  “I dropped by the local veterans’ post last evening,” Robert said, his gaze sliding away from hers. “Ran into Phil, and we just started talking. You know how it is.”

  She thought she could imagine. Whatever he’d managed to hear about her at the auction hadn’t been enough for him, and he’d hoped to learn more. Trying to persuade Jamie to take a few more bites of egg was as good a way as any to hide what she was thinking. Jamie, uncooperative, turned his face away.

  Nancy chuckled in what seemed to be genuine amusement. “Oh, my, that brings back memories. Isn’t it amazing how little ones can make their wishes known, even before they’re talking much?”

  Hannah was prepared to be on her guard with these people who’d been foisted on her, but the warm interest in Nancy’s face was hard to resist. “How old are your grandchildren?”

  “The youngest is five, so we’re past the toddler stage, at least for the moment. Maybe our younger daughter will come through with a couple more grandchildren.” She appeared hopeful. “After all, she’s only been married a year.”

  Hannah couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe you shouldn’t suggest that yet, then.”

  “Oh, dear, I try not to.” Nancy shook her head ruefully. “But I suspect she knows what I’m thinking. Mothers and daughters usually do know each other too well, don’t you agree?”

  There was no point in mentioning her mother. “You’re probably right. You were in the bakery late this week, as I remember.”

  “Yes, I can’t resist Paula’s homemade rye loaf. Or her rhubarb crumb cake, for that matter, even though I try.” Nancy patted her middle. “I’m not much of a baker myself.”

  The conversation stayed general throughout the meal, and Hannah felt her initial suspicion ebb away. If Robert had some special reason for bringing her together with these people, it wasn’t apparent. Nancy was pleasant company, and they talked recipes, and quilting, and the results of the charity auction while the men had their own conversation.

  Jamie was intent on some game of his own, which seemed to involve pretending a piece of roll was a car, and Hannah was glad to take the respite that offered. Soon enough she assumed he’d start to fuss, ready for his nap.

  And then she realized the men had gone from talking about retirement to talking about their service in Viet Nam. They seemed intent on topping the other’s stories, chuckling now and then as if enjoying the look back at what must have been a difficult experience.

  She didn’t begrudge them their memories, and if they could find something to smile about, she was glad. But she didn’t want to hear it: It reminded her too much of Travis and the roadside bomb that had ended his life too soon. Her stomach tightened until she wished she hadn’t eaten the scrambled eggs and hash browns.

  Nancy touched her arm. “Did you know the restaurant has a nice little spot in the side lawn where you can sit? I was thinking we might take Jamie out there and let him stretch his legs. I’m sure he’s stayed in that high chair as long as any reasonable person could expect of a toddler.”

  “I don’t want to interrupt your meal . . .” Hannah began.

  But Nancy pushed her plate away. “It’s fine. I’m finished.” She shoved her seat back. “Phil, Hannah and I are going outside with the baby. You’ll find us in the side yard when you finish winning the war.”

  That seemed to be that. Hannah suspected that no one, least of all Nancy’s husband, argued with her when she took that tone. So Hannah lifted Jamie from the high chair, grabbed the diaper bag, and followed the older woman between the tables to a side door.

  The instant they stepped outside, Hannah’s remaining tension began to slip away. Jamie squealed at the sight of the lawn, squirming in her arms.

  Nancy led the way to a bench in the shade of an oak tree. Hannah sat down, letting Jamie slide onto the grass. She pulled a couple of toys from the diaper bag, but she suspected he’d be happier running around for a bit.

  Sure enough, he ran as far as the sidewalk that meandered around the back of the building and then stopped, looking at her as if for permission.

  “Stay here on the grass, okay?” She was never sure just how much he understood, but it was probably more than she sometimes thought.

  Taking his yellow ball, she tossed it onto the grass. Jamie went hurrying to find it. He picked it up, lifted his arm above his head to throw it, and dropped it behind him. He swung around with such a puzzled look that she had to laugh.

  Nancy was chuckling as well. “He is such a little sweetheart,” she said.

  “He won’t be sweet for much longer, I’m afraid. He’ll be wanting his nap, and he can get cranky. I don’t want his grandfather to think—” She stopped, because that gave away too much about her strained relationship with Robert.

  “Men,” Nancy said, on a note of loving exasperation. “They don�
�t understand half what they should. Look at those two in there, reliving those days in Nam without thinking about the pain of it.”

  “Maybe they’ve reached a point in their lives when they have to remember it that way,” Hannah suggested, although Nancy had voiced what she thought.

  “Probably so. Don’t get me wrong—I am proud of my husband for his service. But I remember only too well what it was like when Phil came home. He was a long time getting back to being the man I’d married.”

  Hannah nodded, looking down at her hands, linked together in her lap. “I worried about that. About what it would be like when Travis came home.”

  “And the reality was much worse than you’d anticipated,” Nancy said softly. She put her hand over Hannah’s. “Those two men hatched this meeting up, you know. They wanted me to try to convince you to get involved with the veterans’ group. Maybe take part in the parade.”

  Hannah’s gaze went, startled, to Nancy’s face. “I couldn’t.”

  “Well, I know that, believe me.” Nancy patted her. “You’re not ready, and I certainly won’t try to persuade you. And I’ll make an effort to explain so that your father-in-law will understand.” She smiled ruefully. “Although I can’t guarantee I’ll be successful.”

  Relief flowed through Hannah, and thankfulness. “Travis always said how stubborn his father was. But I didn’t know Robert at all well. I’ve only seen him twice, before this visit.”

  “It’s difficult.” Nancy’s voice was warm with sympathy and understanding. “I just want you to know that anytime you need to talk to someone, you can come to me. Anytime.”

  “Thank you.” Hannah’s voice was husky. Maybe she hadn’t reached any better understanding with Travis’s father today, but it seemed she had found an ally who did understand.

  * * *

  It was later than his usual time when William turned the horse into the lane that led to the stable behind Caleb’s shop on Tuesday. Isaac had asked for his help with the milking that morning.

  Asked was the surprising word, William decided. After more than a week of silent disapproval emanating from his older brother, William had gotten used to the state of affairs, and when Isaac had actually requested his help instead of assuming it, William had been unaccountably moved. Maybe Isaac was beginning to see him as an adult at last. That was progress he hadn’t anticipated.

  The mare stopped automatically at her usual spot, whickering a greeting to the horses already out in the paddock. William slid down, his thoughts running through the day ahead and coming to an abrupt halt at the afternoon, when he’d see Hannah.

  There’d been no opportunity to see or speak with her since Saturday, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about her. And he’d worried about her situation with her father-in-law.

  It wondered him that any man would behave that way toward his own kin. Asking questions about Hannah as if she’d done something wrong—well, William couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

  If Robert Conroy had thought his questions would go unnoticed, he didn’t know much about places like Pleasant Valley. Murmurs had been drifting through the community like smoke, enough so that the back of William’s neck prickled when he drove through town. Hannah probably felt it even more.

  His hands paused on the harness buckle when he caught a glimpse of movement. Hannah, coming toward him along the lane between the buildings, was a graceful figure in her green dress, apron fluttering a bit in the breeze that sent a few leaves slipping down from the maple next to the fence.

  She looked as if she belonged here now. The thought stuck in his heart. She belonged here.

  But then he saw her face and knew something was wrong.

  He moved to meet her, but she waved him back.

  “Don’t stop what you’re doing,” she said. “I just happened to see you go past the bakery, and I wanted . . .” She looked up at him and seemed to lose the thread of what she was saying.

  He wasn’t doing very well in that area himself. He couldn’t look at her without remembering the touch of her lips, the softness of her body in that moment when she had clung to him.

  He shook the thought away, focusing on her face. “You w-wanted . . . ?” he prompted. Was it his imagination, or did the pink in her cheeks deepen?

  “I wanted to thank you again. For Saturday.” She took a step back, then turned and stroked the mare’s neck as if hiding her face from him.

  “Knowing about y-your father-in-law h-hurt you. I am sorry.”

  “You thought I needed to know, and you were right.” She straightened. “I’m sure half the township knows about it by now.” She gave him a fleeting glance. “Be honest with me, William. You’ve heard people talking about it, haven’t you?”

  He nodded, reluctant to upset her more. “B-but most p-people feel for you, not him. I know it.”

  No need to mention the few who considered that Hannah was an outsider and what happened to her was no concern of theirs.

  Still, something in her quiet brown eyes suggested that she probably knew that well. Did she know, too, how he had wanted to protest when he’d heard people say those things? But his habit of silence was too ingrained, and he hadn’t managed to speak out.

  Hannah stood silent, caught in some sad imaginings of her own. He had to say something.

  “H-has your father-in-law said anything to y-you about it?”

  “About his asking questions about me? No, but then, he wouldn’t, would he?” A worry line appeared between her eyebrows. “I wish I understood what he wants.”

  “H-he wants you t-to leave, ain’t so?” That seemed clear. It was the why that eluded William.

  “He hasn’t said that to me again.” Her frown deepened, and she rubbed her forehead as if she could erase the thought. “But I feel all the time as if he’s judging me. Us. This whole place. As if there’s some special behavior he expects from his son’s widow, and I’m disappointing him. Letting him down. More important, letting Travis down.”

  “Ach, th-that is foolishness. You w-wouldn’t.”

  “How can I be sure?” Pain filled her voice suddenly. Maybe it had been there all along, and William just hadn’t heard it. “Whatever I do, it seems I’m failing someone, just like I—”

  She stopped, as short as if she’d shut off a tap. But he felt sure that whatever she’d been about to say was important. To her, and so to him, as well.

  “Just l-like you what, Hannah?” He asked the question softly, afraid she’d push him away. “Who d-do you think you f-failed?”

  Hannah drew in a long breath. She was staring at the horse, but he didn’t think she even saw the mare standing there patiently while they talked.

  “My mother.” Her voice seemed to choke on the words. “I went off to school, not even noticing how down she was that day.”

  He was silent, mind busy, trying to fill in the blanks of what she was saying. Hannah’s mother had suffered from depression; he knew that from something Paula had let slip to Katie. And Hannah’s father had run off, leaving her to cope with the situation.

  “What happened?” he murmured when it seemed she wouldn’t go on.

  “She took an overdose.” Hannah’s voice was thick with unshed tears. “If I’d been there, if I’d found her sooner, they might have saved her. But they couldn’t.” She closed her eyes, as if to shut something out. “They couldn’t.”

  His heart seemed to be ripping into pieces. He longed to touch her, but he feared comforting might turn to more, and Hannah didn’t need that now.

  “It w-was her choice. Not y-yours.”

  “But if I’d been there—”

  He couldn’t help it. His hand closed around her wrist, and he felt her pulse thud against his palm. “And the n-next time? And the time a-after that?” He hurt so much for her, but he was afraid nothing he said wa
s going to help. “You c-couldn’t be there all the t-time.”

  “I don’t know.” She lifted her hand, and he let go at once. She brushed her palm across her forehead, as if to push the bad memories away. “What you say is true, and I’ve said it to myself.” She tried to smile, but it was a failure. “Still, I can’t help feeling that I let her down when she needed me. And now Robert is making me feel that I’m letting Travis down.”

  Clearly she didn’t want to talk about her mother any further, so he had to respect her wishes, but even that small amount had shown him a great deal about Hannah.

  He tried to speak more lightly, but he’d been mulling over what he knew about Robert, trying to make sense of his actions. “We are n-not what Robert is used to, ja? He finds everything here s-strange, and h-he is still g-grieving for his s-son. G-give him some t-time. Let h-him see that you h-have not forgotten Travis. Robert w-will come around.”

  “I hope so.” Her hand moved toward him, as if she would touch him, and then she drew it back. “In the meantime . . .” The words trickled off, but he thought he knew what she would ask him.

  “You think it w-would be best if I d-don’t come today.”

  Pressing her lips together, she nodded. “I think it’s best. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all r-right.” It wasn’t, not really, but he couldn’t add to her burdens right now. “Wait.” He turned, reaching under the seat for the object he’d intended to take to Jamie this afternoon.

  “Here.” He put it in her hands. “This is f-for Jamie.”

  Her breath went out in a soft exhale as she held the toy locomotive in her cupped hands. “It-it’s beautiful.” She blinked, as if to chase away tears. “You made this for him?”

  “Ja.” He closed her fingers around it. “No n-need for R-Robert to know. This is between us.”

  They stood for a moment, looking at each other, and William knew that it might as well be his heart that she held in her hands.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I see you can’t walk very far in this town without running out of sidewalk.”