by Amy Lillard
“How do you know her?” Laura Kate asked from beside him.
“Who?” He feigned ignorance.
“Hannah. She’s Abner and Eunice’s daughter, but how do you know her?” Laura Kate asked.
“I like Abner and Eunice,” Essie chirped from the back seat.
“I do too.” He hoped that was the only answer he would need, but that was wishful thinking.
“I think Hannah is nice,” Essie added.
“How do you know her?” Laura Kate asked again.
“I’ve never seen her around here before,” Essie said.
“That’s because she doesn’t live here.”
“Where does she live?” Laura Kate asked.
“If she doesn’t live here, how do you know her?”
“She used to live here,” Aaron said.
“Where does she live now?” Essie asked.
“Someplace in Tennessee, I guess.” He didn’t know for certain, but he thought he’d heard someone say that she had moved to Nashville.
“Like Ethridge?” Essie asked. “Isn’t that where Mammi and Dawdi live? Does she know Mammi and Dawdi?”
“Sort of,” he said, feeling somewhat as if he’d been run over by a truck. He didn’t have the answers to these questions. Or at least, not any answer he wanted to give Essie right now.
“If she lives over there, why haven’t we gone to visit her when we go out to see Mammi and Dawdi?” Laura Kate asked.
Great, now Essie had her sister firing questions at him. “I don’t know. Sit down.”
Essie settled back into the seat once more. “She’s pretty,” Essie said.
“Jah,” Laura Kate agreed. “But it’s not just looks. It’s what is in a woman’s heart.”
Amen to that. Hannah was pretty, beautiful even, and once upon a time he had thought he knew what was in her heart. But that had all changed one night. He thought he had done everything right. He thought that if he took a chance, did something big to bring them closer together, that she would know how much he loved her. Yet all he had done was push them apart.
He gathered up those thoughts and stuffed them back into a box he normally kept locked. There was no sense going down the road to the past. It led nowhere. Whatever had happened between them then, between him and Hannah, was over and had been for fifteen years or better. There was a time when he had counted each and every day. But when he realized that Hannah wasn’t coming back, he knew it was time to look to the future, a future without Hannah Gingerich.
He glanced around at his three sweet children. They were the future and what he needed to concentrate on. Not past loves, not past mistakes, but these precious kids of his. That was why Ohio was so important. He felt like there was opportunity there. Something more perhaps.
Just like Hannah.
He shoved that thought away. He was nothing like Hannah. He just wanted the best for his kids, opportunities, new faces. Most everyone in these parts had to travel back to Tennessee in order to find a marriage partner. Most everyone was related to a certain point. They wouldn’t have to worry about such matters in Ohio.
“How far away is Ohio?” Essie asked.
“Far.”
“If it’s so far, why are we moving?” Essie asked.
Aaron sighed. “I haven’t decided if we’re moving or not. And I have no control over where Ohio is located.”
“Jah, Dat.” Something in his tone finally got through to her. Essie sat down, pushed herself all the way back in her seat and crossed her arms, a sure sign she wasn’t happy.
Aaron bit back his second sigh. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings. It was just that all this talk of moving mixed with Hannah’s return had him on edge. And the worst part was, there was nothing he could do about it.
First she was Hannah the Englisch, with her blue jeans and fancy hair. Then today at church she was like Yesterday’s Hannah in her Amish frack and prayer kapp. He didn’t know what to expect. He never knew who she was going to be.
Or maybe he didn’t want to face the fact that the Hannah at church, Yesterday’s Hannah, was only a front. She had dressed that way because she was going to church. Had it been any other event, on any other day, she would have looked just as she had today. So Englisch, so worldly. So not the Hannah he remembered.
It was better this way, he told himself. The Englisch Hannah was the real Hannah, and it always had been. Even when she was Amish. Otherwise why would she have left?
Chapter Twelve
“This is dumb.”
Hannah’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as Brandon stared out the window. “It’s the best option we have.”
He turned toward her, pinning her with hazel eyes so like her own. “Really?”
She had no response. Going to the public library in town and using their computers to complete his online school assignments was the best option they had. Aside from leaving Randolph and Pontotoc behind and going . . . where? They had nowhere to go.
And that makes it your only option.
She pushed the thought away, but the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was a little harder to rid herself of.
“Brandon, can you please just do this for me?” Why hadn’t someone told her these teenage years would be so hard? Or maybe they had but she was so enamored of the young Brandon that she hadn’t believed them. Or maybe this terrible situation they found themselves in was taking its toll on the both of them.
That was what she wanted to believe, that once everything with Mitch’s estate was settled life would return to normal. Or at least her relationship with her son would even out.
“Yeah, whatever.” He turned to stare out the window once again.
As far as answers go, it left a lot to be desired, but it would have to do for now.
She dropped him off at the door of the small library. “Do you have all your instructions?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mother. I’ve only done this about a hundred times.”
But never from a library computer. “If you have any problems, ask the librarian.”
“Got it.”
“And leave your phone.”
“Why? It’s dead.”
“Just leave it,” she said.
“But—”
“Leave. It.”
He took it from his pants pocket and with a perfect teenage eyeroll, he tossed it into the passenger seat. Then he slammed the car door and sauntered away.
Hannah watched him enter the building, then closed her eyes. Lord, if You’re listening, give me strength. But she knew; He had stopped listening to her a long time ago.
She backed up the car and headed down Main Street. She just wanted to get out of sight of the library in case Brandon decided that if she was out in the car he didn’t have to work anymore. Their lives were in complete upheaval, but education was of the upmost importance. She should know. Growing up Amish, she had stopped school the day after her fourteenth birthday. At eighteen she left Pontotoc, then she found out she was pregnant. She married Mitch, and the rest was history, as they say. No GED. No college diploma. Now Mitch was gone, the house was gone, and she could barely balance the checkbook. Not that it mattered; all the money was gone too.
She pulled into the bank parking lot and kept to the corner and out of the way. She needed just a few moments to make a call, then she would head over to the grocery store to pick up a few things for her mother, then back to the library for Brandon.
Brandon’s phone was completely dead, and thanks to her ever-shrinking cash fund, she’d had hers turned off weeks ago. She plugged his phone into the car charger and waited while it charged enough to turn on.
Outside the car, the small town of Pontotoc bustled about its business. People walked down the sidewalks shopping in the antique stores and resale shops that lined the quaint street. Not much had changed. There was a Chinese restaurant. That was new. And another shop that sold clothing for teens. The wind rustled in the trees, and cars quietly purred down the street as
people ducked into the home-owned eateries there on Main.
It was more than different from Nashville. They were worlds apart. A person could almost hear the grass grow in Pontotoc. In Nashville she couldn’t hear herself think. Or maybe it was that she couldn’t allow herself to think about all the could-have-beens and should-have-beens. All the what-ifs.
The phone finally charged enough that she could dial the now-familiar number.
“Lipman and Qualls, attorneys-at-law. How may I help you?”
“This is Hannah Gin—McLean. Is Mr. Lipman in, please?”
“One moment, please.”
She said another small prayer that he was there, just in case God was listening. She needed to talk to her attorney. She needed that connection with the outside world. And with her limited telephone access, she needed it when she needed it.
“Mrs. McLean?”
She nearly wilted in relief when her lawyer’s voice came through the line. “Hello, Mr. Lipman. I was just calling to see if there’s been any news about my husband’s estate.”
Papers rustled on the other end. “I’m sorry. There’s been no change yet.” His voice was soft and caring and brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them away.
“It’s just . . . this is hard.” Her voice caught on a sob, and she swallowed it back. This was not the time to break down, but dang it! She wanted her life back. She wanted a life back. Something. Anything.
“These matters are seldom easy on any involved,” he kindly continued.
“Yes,” she agreed, thankful that her voice was clear and not choked with unshed tears. Now was the time to be strong. But she had been strong for so long that the burden was growing more difficult than ever to carry. “I understand.”
“As soon as I know something I’ll give you a call. I have your number here.” He recited a number from her file. It was her old cell phone number.
“That’s not a good number anymore.” She rattled off Brandon’s number. Pontotoc Amish were so very conservative that there was only one phone shanty in the entire district. It sat in the schoolhouse yard in the event that the youngsters needed immediate help. There were no cell phones for business, or phones in the barns. If an Amish person needed to use the phone, they went to their nearest Englisch neighbor and asked to borrow theirs.
“It’s my son’s number. And I can’t promise that it will always have a charge, but I’ll check it every chance I can.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Is everything okay, Mrs. McLean?”
“Yes,” she said with a nod he couldn’t see. “I’ve just come home to Pontotoc, and well, my family doesn’t have a home phone.
“Pontotoc, Mississippi?” he asked. She could almost see him making a quick note on the edge of her file.
“That’s right.”
“And you don’t have a phone.”
“Right again.”
“I see.” He said the words, but she had a feeling he had no clue as to what she was talking about. Most people didn’t know that she had grown up Amish. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”
Hannah thanked him and disconnected. She’d figured out the solution to one problem, but she had yet to figure out why she had called Pontotoc home.
* * *
This was so dumb.
Brandon looked at the ancient desktop computer and about gagged. He hadn’t even known such antiques still existed. Much less that some people actually still used them. Why he couldn’t bring his own laptop from home, he’d never understand. Oh, his mother had tried to explain. Something about everything of value having to remain at their house until the estate was finally settled. He hadn’t paid as much attention as he probably should have, but sometimes the way adults talked made him want to curl up in a ball and go to sleep.
Then again, if he had brought his laptop he’d still be here, hooked up to the electricity. How people could survive like that in the twenty-first century, he would never know.
He pressed the button to turn on the dinosaur and hoped it actually worked. How embarrassing it would be to have to get help to turn the stupid thing on! The screen flickered, then came into focus. Wow. Would wonders never cease? He shook his head and logged on to the Internet.
He wanted to check his Facebook account and maybe see what was going on over on Twitter. Snapchat, his absolute favorite, was out since his phone was dead. Another stupid thing about Mississippi. Maybe not Mississippi, but definitely the Amish. What was so wrong with a little electricity?
He resisted the urge to check his social media and instead logged into his virtual school’s site. His mom would have his hide if he didn’t get his work done. Or worse, she would put him in public school down here. He shuddered at the thought. New school, no friends, no dad, living with the backward Amish. No thank you. The best plan would be to zip through his assignments—then he could play around all he wanted.
He started his algebra work, only momentarily distracted when someone sat down on the other side of the table from him. He glanced up, then did a double take.
“Hi.” She smiled, then lowered her brown eyes to something in her lap.
“Hi,” he said in return, though his voice cracked at the end. Great. Now he sounded like a squeaky shoe. He cleared his throat. What was she doing here this time of day?
“Are you in online school?” she asked.
Brandon nodded, not trusting his voice to not betray him again.
“Me too.” She smiled again.
She was pretty, Brandon decided. Very pretty. Her long brown hair was straight and hung well past her shoulders. When she leaned in to look at something on the computer screen, a lock of it fell forward. It was really long, and he wondered if she could sit on it. Her brown eyes were big and friendly, and they seemed to smile at him even when her lips were still. She had a few freckles across the bridge of her nose. He figured she hated them; most girls did. But he thought they were cute.
“My name is Shelly,” she whispered across the table.
“Brandon.” Thankfully his voice held out, and he didn’t sound like a silly kid. “You come here to use the computers too?”
She nodded. “My mother takes my little brother and sister to gymnastics three times a week. I come in here to work on my tests for school while they’re busy.”
“Why don’t you do it at home?” She looked old enough to stay by herself. He thought the law was twelve, and she seemed older than that. If he had to guess he would say that she was about his age. Fifteen or so.
She made a face, but the expression vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. “My parents try to live off the grid.”
“Off the grid?”
“You know, no television, no computers . . .”
“No Internet?” He knew enough about that. But she didn’t look Amish. Shelly simply looked . . . wholesome. Sweet. Like someone he would like to get to know. That was, if he was going to be staying in Mississippi long. Which he wasn’t.
“What about you?”
He jerked himself from his thoughts. “What?”
“Does your family live off the grid?”
He thought of his super-pie-making, homemade-clothes-wearing grandmother and his scowling grandfather. No electricity, no running water, no phone to speak of. “Uhum, yeah,” he finally said. “You could say that.”
“Then that’s something we have in common.”
Bandon nodded. “And you do your schoolwork here. That’s two things.”
She nodded along with him, that smile still playing with the corners of her mouth. She really was pretty. Maybe this wasn’t so lame after all.
* * *
“And you got all your assignments?” Hannah asked. She had picked Brandon up from the library, and thankfully his mood had improved. Too bad hers hadn’t. Was she asking for so much? She didn’t think so, but life seemed to have other plans.
“I should be set until Wednesday. Is that okay?”
Was that okay? It was d
ownright spectacular. “Works for me,” she said instead.
“You’ll take me back to the library on Wednesday so I can work some more?”
“I can take you into town tomorrow too.” She cast a quick glance in his direction. His expression was unchanged, nothing out of the ordinary.
“Wednesday will be fine.”
“If you’re sure.” She shot him another look, but he was staring out the window at the landscape as it whirred by.
“Did you know that you can get a fourteen-year-old driving permit in Mississippi?”
Was that what this was all about? “I didn’t.” She had never been licensed to drive until after she had moved away.
“Well, you can. There are steps and everything, but as long as I’m enrolled in a driver’s ed program I can get a permit when I’m fourteen. Which I am. Plus I’ll be fifteen soon.”
Hannah nodded, even as her stomach sank. They had so much going on that she couldn’t imagine adding anything else, even his learning to drive.
But that wasn’t fair. She had been with the Englisch long enough to understand how important a driver’s license was to teens.
“What’s the rush? You’ll be fifteen in a couple of weeks.”
“Yeah, but I could start learning to drive now. And then you wouldn’t have to worry about taking me into town for lessons.”
That wasn’t exactly how it worked, but she wasn’t going to argue all the details. “I’ll look into it, okay?”
He heaved a big sigh, large enough that she shifted her attention from the road to her son. “What’s wrong?”
“You always say that. It’s just a fancy way of saying no.”
Was it? She pulled the car to a stop in her parents’ drive and turned to face him completely. “I know how much this means to you,” she said. “And I promise to look into it. You just get your work done. Deal?”
That sweet smile broke out, stretching across his face. “Deal.” He got out of the car and stopped, his attention captured by the man and beast in the horse corral.
It was the most interest she had seen him give any one thing since they had arrived in Mississippi.