A Home for Hannah

by Amy Lillard

  She pushed open the door, careful not to let the screen slam behind her. A sound that loud and sharp would spook the animal for sure.

  As casually as she could, she made her way across the yard toward Aaron and the horse. If he saw her coming he made no indication. All his concentration was centered on that mare. And the closer she got, the easier it was to hear the low murmur and see how the words that he spoke soothed the horse as he continued to work with her.

  It was unlike anything Hannah had ever seen. Not that she had much experience with horses. She’d had a few run-ins with the gelding they had used back when to pull the carriage. Occasionally Leah had liked to hop on its back and ride through the pasture, but Hannah had never been so bold where the beast was concerned. She hadn’t had many more dealings. Oh, she had seen television Westerns where a spunky cowboy was trying to tame an even spunkier horse. Sometimes the results were comical and sometimes tragic. But television couldn’t hold a candle to seeing Aaron work live.

  She braced her arms against the top of the slatted wooden gate and simply watched.

  She could stand there for hours and watch his motion, as graceful and enthralling as a ballet. In fact, it looked sort of like a dance. Aaron would pull the horse closer using the bridle bit in her mouth to get her to come toward him. He tugged gently from side to side, stepping toward the horse. He rubbed her forehead, said something to her, patted her neck, and stepped back. He did this over and over as if showing her the bridle wasn’t a bad thing. It wouldn’t hurt her and humans were her friends. Over and over he performed the action while Hannah watched, mesmerized.

  She straightened as he stopped and headed in her direction. “Good morning,” he said. His blue eyes were hooded, hiding the thoughts and feelings plaguing him. Or maybe they were just impassive. Maybe there were no thoughts and feelings. Maybe she was just so fifteen years ago.

  It wasn’t like she could ever be anything to him again, except maybe a friend. And she decided right then and there: if that was all they could have together, she wanted it.

  Hannah dipped her chin. “Good morning. How’s it going?”

  He turned back to the horse who happily munched what was left of the summertime grass.

  “It’s going good. Good,” Aaron said. He met her gaze, then looked away, back toward the horse. “I’m sorry about yesterday.” The words were barely a whisper.

  Hannah shook her head. “Don’t apologize.”

  He dropped his gaze to the ground under his feet. “I guess I wasn’t thinking. You’ve not had enough time to adjust. Your man hasn’t been gone as long as my Lizzie.”

  His Lizzie. Hannah shoved the thought away. She wasn’t going to dwell. “How long has she been gone?” It was perhaps the one thing no one had mentioned when Aaron’s name was brought up.

  “Almost a year.”

  Which meant his time for mourning was nearing an end. Was he contemplating getting remarried?

  With three children to care for, he could have gotten remarried right away. But the hurt look in his eyes whenever his wife was brought up made Hannah think perhaps he wasn’t ready to move forward from their marriage.

  “I don’t know what’s worse,” he finally said. “Losing someone to a terrible accident or watching them waste away and wondering why God didn’t go on and take them.”

  Hannah murmured something, more sounds than words. She cleared her throat. “Accidents are terrible, but quick.”

  “Like ripping off a bandage?” He let out a small, humorless chuckle.

  “Something like that.”

  He sighed, and she stared off to one side of her father’s shop.

  “I’m glad you’re getting to work with horses. You always loved them so.”

  His frown captured her attention. “I don’t work with horses.”

  “What do you call this?” She made a flicking gesture with one hand.

  “Helping out a friend.”

  “Oh. I just assumed . . .”

  “Lizzie’s father farmed peanuts and soybeans.”

  She remembered that.

  “The farm’s mine now.” And he didn’t seem all that happy about it.

  “You train horses on the side?”

  “Whenever work crops up. But there’s not much call for it around here.”

  She supposed there wasn’t. “Thanks for helping my dat.”

  Aaron nodded. “He’s good people.”

  The strange thing about moving away was a person forgot that life where they had come from had continued. Everyone in Pontotoc wasn’t suspended in time merely waiting for her to return in order to pick up their lives.

  “Maybe you could come for supper one night,” Hannah said. “I’d love to meet your children. Officially.”

  He gave a jerk of his head, somewhere between a nod and a shake. “Maybe.”

  She shifted in place, more than sad that there had been a time when she could talk to Aaron about anything and everything. Now she could barely get a dinner invitation out without stuttering. They were both uncomfortable, uneasy in this new situation they found themselves in. But it didn’t have to be that way.

  “I hate this.”

  Her sharp words brought his attention quickly around. “What?”

  “I hate this.” She shook her head. “I know we can’t go back to being like we were.” It was far too late for that. “But we should be able to have a civil conversation without feeling so . . .” She couldn’t come up with a word so she just shuddered and made a face. “I mean, I just wanted to share a meal with you.” Heaven knew they had shared much, much more.

  The moment hung between them, and she thought perhaps he would sadly shake his head and walk away from her and her fanciful notions. Then he grinned. A chuckle escaped. “You’re right, of course.” He nodded in emphasis. “I guess maybe we should have dinner together.”

  “Tomorrow night?”

  “Don’t you want to ask your mamm?”

  “I don’t think she’ll mind.” Her mother had done nothing but sing Aaron’s praises since Hannah had returned. “We’ll call it a celebratory supper for your success in training Dat’s horse.”

  “I won’t be done with her for a while. Maybe even a couple of weeks.”

  Hannah shrugged. “That doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate early.”

  “I suppose not.” He continued to smile, his shoulders relaxed. Now, more than ever, he looked like the Aaron she had known so long ago.

  “Say you’ll come eat.”

  “Jah.” He ducked his head as he nodded.

  “And bring your children?”

  “Of course.”

  Hannah returned his smile, her own tension easing for the first time since she had set foot in Mississippi. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Me too.”

  She held his gaze for a moment more, then turned on her heel and made her way back to the house. She could feel his gaze on her as she walked away. How could something like a look feel more like a caress? How could she be so aware of something so simple as him watching her?

  She stopped before entering the house, glancing back over her shoulder. Aaron stood just to her side of the fence, still watching her.

  She shot him one last smile, then rushed inside, shutting the door behind her as if that alone would remove this connection between them.

  “Mamm,” she called.

  “In here,” she returned, her voice coming from the direction of the kitchen.

  Hannah hurried over, peeking her head in. “I, uh . . . invited someone to supper tomorrow night.”

  Her mother turned from the bowl of apples she was peeling. The trees that lined the back of the property could barely produce enough for a decent snitz pie. Judging by the size of the fruit in her mother’s hands, the apples must have come from the store. “Oh? Who?”

  “Aaron Zook and his kids.”

  The knife her mother had been using clattered to the counter. “Oh, jah?” Her voice was tempered, as if she was
testing the waters before she committed to her feelings one way or another.

  “I hope that’s okay.”

  Her mother retrieved her knife and started peeling apples once again. “Oh, jah. Of course.”

  “I just thought we should thank him for helping Dat with the mare.”

  “That’s a fine idea.” But her tone seemed reserved.

  “What?” Hannah asked.

  Her mother sighed, then she set the apples aside. She wiped her hands on her apron and finally turned to give Hannah her full attention. “I just don’t want to see him get hurt.”

  Him? “What?” It was perhaps the last thing she had expected her mother to say.

  “Now, Hannah,” her mother started, then stopped with a shake of her head. “You and I both know that you are not staying here. You can go around pretending like it all you want, but the fact of the matter is you weren’t cut out for Amish living. I knew that when you were little.”

  She wasn’t cut out for Amish living? She had lived over half her life Amish. Hannah crossed her arms, knowing all the while how defensive it looked. “What makes you say that?”

  A small smile played at her lips. “When you were five you started coming up with better ways to do things. What was wrong with using tractors? And the buggies would ride much smoother if they had rubber tires. Why, one time after church . . .” She shook her head with the memory. “You went around to all the women and asked if they thought it would be easier to can with an electric stove.”

  Hannah stifled a laugh. “I did not.”

  “You did.” Her mother nodded. “Your dat was beside himself. He hustled you off to the barn. I just knew you were going to get a spanking, but when you came back out, you said he didn’t lay a hand on you. I never knew what he said to you.” She moved to the cabinet and pulled down the canister of sugar.

  Hannah remembered now. “He told me that we weren’t Englisch; we were Amish. Amish didn’t have electricity, no matter how easy it made things. Then he told me I had better get used to it, because it wasn’t changing.”

  She hadn’t thought about that afternoon in years, but looking back, it seemed like the beginning of the end. “And you think because of that, that I will hurt Aaron?”

  You’ve hurt him before.

  Her mother pursed her lips, as if contemplating each word before answering. “He was devastated when you left.”

  Hannah resisted the urge to roll her eyes and settled herself for a small shake of her head. “Devastated enough that he took up with Lizzie Yoder not even four months later.”

  Mamm shook her head. “You’ll have to talk to Jim about that.”

  “Jim? My brother Jim? What does Jimmy have to do with this?”

  Her mother retrieved her measuring cups before answering. “Lizzie and Anna were sisters. Or had you forgotten?”

  “I hadn’t forgotten,” she said as Mamm started scooping sugar onto her apples.

  And Aaron really looked up to Jim. “Are you saying Jim set up Lizzie and Aaron?”

  “Aaron had been coming over here for as long as anyone remembered. You took off to who knew where.” She shrugged, then sprinkled the apple and sugar mixture with cinnamon. “We all hated to see him hurt.”

  She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Her own brother had been instrumental in keeping her and Aaron apart. Oh, he hadn’t meant to, and he’d done nothing directly, but it was there all the same. She had been more than ready to return to Pontotoc and Amish life, but she hadn’t because she didn’t think she could see Aaron with someone else day in and day out for the rest of her life. She knew she couldn’t. Not with the secrets she carried. So she had stayed away. Married Mitch. And the rest was history, as they said.

  Hannah snatched a piece of apple from the bowl. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “Don’t stay gone long. I was hoping you would help me with these pies.”

  Hannah munched the apple, letting her mother’s words sink in. “You’re making apple pies?”

  “Jah.”

  “That’s Brandon’s favorite.”

  Mamm smiled. “I know, he’s been dropping hints for two days. I figured this was the best way to welcome him to the family.”

  Hannah gave her a one-armed hug. That was her mamm, healing the world with food. But there was no amount of apple pie that could repair the rift between her and Aaron. And oh, how she wished there was.

  Chapter Eight

  Hannah started down the road, all that she had just learned tumbling around in her head. It would do no good to talk to Jim now. The damage had been done. Lives had been forever altered. There was no going back.

  The sun beat down on her as she ambled along, no particular destination in mind. Maybe she should have headed over the property to the pond where she had spent a great many sunny afternoons, but she’d had enough memories for one day.

  Red dirt dusted her toes and coated the remaining polish from the last pedicure she’d had. The dark purple-black color was supposed to have been elegant and mysterious, but now, chipped and grown out, it seemed a little sad. Too much too late. She should go into town and get some nail polish remover and take it off. That gesture might even help her dat on his road to forgiveness. She could only hope.

  One foot in front of the other, she walked and kept walking, head down, watching each step. The gravel was uneven beneath her feet, the rocks poking through the soles of her flip-flops. She ought to head back, but going back seemed all she was capable of doing these days. She wanted to push on, no matter where it took her.

  She stopped, the analogy of her life stilling her feet in place. She had to keep going. She had to. One day soon she would have everything settled and she could start again. Another chance at another life. How many chances did she deserve? She hoped at least one more. She needed one more to correct the mistakes she had made. One more to give Brandon a fresh start, a do-over he so desperately deserved. One more. That was all she asked for.

  “Ho! Hannah?”

  She whipped around, so lost in thought that she hadn’t heard the approaching buggy. Considering the amount of noise the iron rims made on gravel, that was saying something.

  Gracie pulled the buggy to a stop, staring at her through the open front of the carriage. “What are you doing way over here?”

  She looked up, suddenly aware of her surroundings. The mailbox in front of her said Yoder—one of Anna’s brothers, she was sure. Once upon a time the house had belonged to Elmer Beachey. She recognized it immediately. She was miles from home. How long had she been walking?

  “Walking.” As far as answers went, it was poor at best.

  “Kumm!” Gracie motioned her over to the buggy. “Get in. I have an errand, and then I’ll take you home.”

  “What kind of errand?” Hannah asked as she pulled herself inside. It had been a while since she had ridden in a buggy, but she climbed inside as if it had only been yesterday. She expected it to be harder. It had been fifteen-plus years since she had ridden in such a cramped space, but it didn’t feel tiny. It felt cozy, comfortable, familiar. All the things she didn’t want it to feel. Gracie shrugged and set the horse into motion once again. “Your mother cooks for a widower twice a week as an extra job. But since Mammi is down, it’s hard for her to leave. I volunteered to come today so she could stay home with Mammi.”

  “That was kind of you,” Hannah murmured. She wasn’t even sure why she said the words; that was simply Gracie’s way. Someone needed help, and she stepped up every time.

  “It’s the right thing to do.”

  Typical Gracie.

  “Who’s the widower?”

  Gracie cast an apologetic look over her shoulder. “Aaron Zook.”

  “I see.” Hannah wanted to demand that Gracie stop immediately and let her out. She could walk home from here. But she was an adult, and she held her seat. There was no need to jump ship, so to speak. Not even three hours ago she had invited him to supper, and now she was trying to avoid him? What was
wrong with her?

  “You don’t mind, do you?”

  Hannah cleared her throat. “Not at all.”

  “Good.” Gracie flashed her a quick smile. “With two of us, it should take half the time.”

  Hannah could only hope.

  * * *

  Walking into Aaron’s house that he had shared with Lizzie was . . . unsettling. Part of her wanted to examine every surface and see if she could find any changes in Aaron over the years.

  Amish houses and Englisch houses were so very different. It wasn’t like she could gauge his love for Lizzie by photographs of her all over the place.

  Whether or not he was over Lizzie was a moot point. Hannah was still planning on leaving. One day. Real soon. Or so she hoped. It would do no good for her to try to be anything but friends with Aaron.

  “Come on.” Gracie gestured for Hannah to follow her into the kitchen.

  Hannah put her feet into motion and tailed her cousin.

  Gracie set about cooking with such ease that Hannah had a feeling this wasn’t her first time in Aaron’s kitchen.

  “How long has Mamm been cooking for him?” And why didn’t she ever tell me? jumped to her lips, but she managed to bite those words back.

  Gracie placed a large skillet on the stove. “I guess just before Lizzie died.”

  “Before?” She pulled out one of the chairs at the kitchen table and plopped down.

  “Jah.” Gracie handed her a bag of potatoes and the peeler. “If you’re going to sit, the least you can do is help.”

  “And here I thought you were rescuing me from having to walk home. You just wanted free labor.”

  “Whatever works.” Her cousin turned back to the stove. She opened two jars of home-canned tomatoes and dumped them into the pot before turning the heat on underneath.

  Hannah peeled the potatoes while Gracie puttered around gathering more ingredients for what Hannah supposed was to be a soup. “Why did Mamm cook for him before his wife died?”