A Home for Hannah

by Amy Lillard

  Joshua nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Caleb’s afraid of the chickens,” Libby said where only Brandon could hear.

  “How can he be afraid of chickens?” he asked.

  Caleb turned serious eyes on him. “You have obviously never been around them.” He shuddered.

  Brandon bit back a laugh. It was true, he had never been around chickens, but he couldn’t imagine being afraid of them.

  “We used to have this banty rooster,” Michael explained. “He was something else.”

  “Chased Caleb all over the yard one day.”

  The mental picture was almost more than Brandon could stand. He laughed. “Why did he chase you?”

  Caleb closed his eyes as if reliving the most horrible day of his life. “I spilled some of the feed on my shoes, and he wanted to peck my feet.”

  Must have been wintertime, Brandon thought. Since he had been in Pontotoc he hadn’t seen anyone wear shoes unless they were going into town.

  “What’s it going to be?” Joshua asked. “Were you passing notes, or are you going to kiss a chicken?”

  “Jah.” Caleb hung his head as if in defeat. “I was passing notes.”

  His brothers and sister all laughed. Brandon joined in, almost disappointed. He would have loved to see Caleb kiss a chicken.

  * * *

  They played Tell the Truth until it was nearly dark. Joshua glanced out the window, then turned back to Brandon. “You better get on home before you can’t see where you’re going.”

  Brandon stood, surprised that he was a little stiff. He’d been sitting at the table for almost two hours straight, laughing, joking, and talking. He couldn’t remember having such a fun evening in a long time. And they hadn’t done anything. Not really. But they were together as a family. Maybe that was what it was all about. It wasn’t like Brandon had much family—just him, his mom, and his dad. His dad . . . Well, Brandon had wondered oftentimes if the man had even wanted him around. He sure hadn’t acted like it. But it was different here. Everyone seemed to love everybody else, and they got along, for the most part. He supposed they argued and squabbled like any siblings would do. Not having any of his own, he had to go off what he’d seen on television and at his friends’ houses, but there was a peace here, a camaraderie not often found. He wanted a little piece of that for himself. Reluctantly, he stood. “I guess you’re right.” He looked around the table at his newfound cousins. “Thanks for letting me play tonight.”

  They all grinned at him.

  “Thanks for catching us dinner,” Libby said. She smiled, her brown eyes welcoming. And it was funny; he could see her eyes. She hadn’t caked them with mascara, not like “English” girls did. Weird, but he had never noticed that until now.

  “Wanna go fish again tomorrow?” Joshua asked as he followed Brandon to the door.

  “That sounds good. I’ve got to do some schoolwork in the morning, but I’m free after that.”

  Joshua nodded. “Jah, I have some chores to do. Maybe sometime tomorrow afternoon?”

  Brandon smiled. “Come and get me.”

  He waved goodbye to his aunt and his uncle, then headed down the porch steps. There was a spring in his stride as he walked the short distance between the houses. The evening was getting darker and darker, and soon he wouldn’t be able to see his hand in front of his face. He quickened his steps even as the smile remained on his lips. It really had been a fun evening, catching dinner and cleaning fish. Well, cleaning the fish hadn’t exactly been a pleasant experience, but a necessary one all the same. And what a sense of satisfaction to eat food that he had caught.

  His dad had never been a hunter or a fisherman, and Brandon had never gone to do those types of things. But he could see why people liked it. There was a keen sense of pride in oneself. It was good to know that he could feed himself without a grocery store. One just never knew when the zombie apocalypse might happen.

  He chuckled to himself and tripped up his grandmother’s steps.

  “Mom?” he called as he walked into the house.

  Tillie stuck her head out of the kitchen doorway. “She’s in the dawdihaus talking to Mammi.”

  Brandon nodded, then headed for the sewing room. Talking with Mammi made him uncomfortable. She had watery blue eyes and leather skin that looked like an old saddle. She never came out of her room except to go to church. At least she had only come out that one time. Otherwise people brought in her food, people went in to visit, and she stayed put. Brandon had gone in there one time, but it had been so uncomfortable he had left first chance he got. Something about her stare seemed to go right through a person. When she looked at him, Brandon felt like she knew his every secret. Maybe even the ones he didn’t know himself.

  He scoffed at his own fanciful thoughts. He had been too long without television. That was what it was. There were no stories in his life, so he was making them up as he went along.

  Tomorrow was Friday, and he was hoping that Shelly would be back at the library. He wanted to tell her about catching fish and playing Tell the Truth with his cousins. He thought she might get a kick out of it. It sounded so much like something her family would do.

  He kicked off his shoes and laid down on his bed. Surprisingly enough, he was tired. He really hadn’t done all that much, or maybe he had. And it had been so enjoyable he hadn’t realized he was tired until now.

  He could hardly wait to tell his mother about their after-dinner game. But he rolled onto his side and was asleep almost immediately.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Did you have a good time last night?” Hannah asked as she drove Brandon into town to the library. She had gone in to visit Mammi and when she came back out she found that Brandon had returned, but had fallen asleep. He looked so peaceful and calm that she didn’t want to wake him. But that wasn’t the only part of his expression. He seemed almost happy. No, maybe that wasn’t the right word. Content. Yes, that was it. He looked content, and considering everything that he had been through, it was a huge step as far as she was concerned.

  “It was okay, I guess.”

  She chanced a quick glance in his direction. “Everything all right?”

  He nodded and stared out the window. She had a feeling he wasn’t telling her something. Whether it was good or bad still remained to be seen.

  “I’m glad,” she said. And it was sort of the truth. She was glad he had an okay time, but she had hoped he’d had more than that. There was no telling how long they would have to remain in Pontotoc, and she wanted him to have as normal a life as he could while he was there. Making friends, hanging out with his cousins, or even young people his own age, was a huge step in the right direction.

  And if she could get him to hang out with people with higher values than those he had been hanging out with in Nashville, well, that would be all the better.

  “Yeah,” he said. He turned and stared out the window, effectively cutting off the conversation.

  Hannah wouldn’t allow herself to get upset about it. She knew he had to have a life that was his own. He was almost fifteen, after all. And he couldn’t have had too bad of a time, considering he stayed till almost dark. If the evening had been a bust, he would’ve come home long before then.

  She was worried over nothing, she was sure. She pulled into the library parking lot and put the car in park, but left it running. “Brandon,” she started.

  “Thanks for the ride.” Brandon opened the car door and was out and headed for the library door before she could say any more. “I love you,” she whispered to his departing back. Then she backed out the car and headed for home.

  * * *

  “Have you done something and then wondered later why you did it?” Brandon asked Shelly. They were sitting at their usual table, talking and doing their work, though it seemed these days he was more interested in talking than doing his work.

  “Of course. Haven’t we all?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Why do you ask?”
Shelly pinned him with a look.

  “I don’t know. It’s just that . . .” He told her about his evening with his cousins and how much fun he’d had, about catching the fish, cleaning them, and eating them for supper. And the satisfaction he felt. He had been disappointed when his mom wasn’t there to tell about it. This morning the excitement had dimmed, and he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

  “Maybe you’re a little bit jealous.” Shelly bit her lip as if she regretted the words.

  “Jealous? Why would I be jealous?” And of what?

  “Well maybe, and I’m just guessing here, maybe you thought you two would have lots of time to spend together when you came here, and when you wanted to spend time with her she wasn’t around.”

  But she was around this morning, and he didn’t want to tell her then. “But—” He shook his head. “Maybe you’re right.”

  Shelly smiled. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Brandon couldn’t help it. He smiled. He really enjoyed spending time with Shelly, almost as much as he enjoyed his time with Joshua. How weird was that? Had anybody asked him two weeks ago if he thought he would find a friend here he would have told them no way. Maybe his two new friends weren’t as sophisticated as his cool Nashville friends, but he enjoyed them all the same. They might not know about cars and girls and movies, but they knew how to clean fish, all about family dynamics, and a host of other things that in real life seemed much more important than cars and girls and movies.

  It was an interesting thought. But one he didn’t have time to mull over further. He had work to do. And he didn’t want to get behind. But maybe soon, he would give that some more thought and try to figure out just when his attitude had changed.

  * * *

  “Hannah,” Mamm called.

  “In here.” Hannah stood in the sewing room examining the contents of her closet. No wonder she was confused. Amish dresses hung next to blue jeans and right beside T-shirts. But she couldn’t say she preferred one style of dress over the other. After all, what did it really matter? Except that in order to return to her family fold she would have to don her Amish garb forever.

  The thought wasn’t completely repulsive. In fact, it wasn’t repulsive at all. She had grown up wearing fracks and aprons. Wearing them was like wearing a small piece of her childhood.

  “There you are.” Mamm entered the room, a bit breathless as always, her cheeks rosy pink.

  “Here I am.”

  Mamm nodded. “I need you and Gracie to go over to Aaron’s tonight and cook.”

  Hannah shook her head. “Is this just another way of trying to get the two of us together? Because if it is, it won’t work. We’ve already made up our minds.”

  “Hush, now, girl. This isn’t about you. Mammi just reminded me that we have a doctor’s appointment in town in less than an hour. And you know how they always run late. By the time we get into town and back out again, I won’t have time to get over there and cook.”

  Well, the excuse sounded legit enough that Hannah couldn’t call bunk and tell her mother she wasn’t going anywhere near Aaron Zook’s house.

  “Can’t Gracie go by herself?” Even as she said the words, her mother started shaking her head.

  “Hannah Mae, there is too much work for only one person. Now promise me you’ll be there at four and you won’t cause any problems.”

  Hannah almost laughed out loud, but she knew the sound would be more sardonic that humorous. “I promise. I’ll be there at four, and I won’t cause any problems.”

  * * *

  Aaron walked back into his house the following evening to the mouthwatering smell of home-fried chicken. His stomach rumbled.

  “Dat Dat Dat!” Essie sprinted from the kitchen and flung herself toward him. “Gracie and Hannah let me help.”

  Aaron scooped his daughter into his arms, laughing at the amount of flour that covered her from head to toe. “I can see that.”

  He gave her a quick squeeze and set her back on her feet.

  “They said I’m a good chicken fryer.”

  Aaron laughed. “That you are.”

  “Come see. Come see.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the kitchen. “Was Mamm a good chicken fryer?”

  “Of course she was.” Lizzie had been good at practically everything—another reason why it was so hard to think of marrying again.

  He wasn’t sure what he expected when he walked into the kitchen. Hannah was a good enough cook; Gracie too. Those skills added with the help of two little girls and he honestly anticipated a huge mess. Flour on the ceiling, egg dripping from the counter . . . but the kitchen was practically immaculate. The only thing changed were the pots now bubbling on the stove. A huge platter of chicken sat on the sidebar.

  “Look, Dat!” Essie ran toward him, her smile stretching from one ear to the other. “Look what we made.”

  Her pride and joy were evident. Even Laura Kate seemed pleased with their accomplishments.

  “It smells good,” he said.

  “And it’s going to taste even better,” Gracie confidently responded.

  “When do we eat?” he asked.

  Hannah replaced the lid on one of the pots and turned off the stove. “How about now?”

  Aaron eyed the piled-high platter. “You don’t expect us to eat all of this by ourselves.”

  Hannah smiled. “Put what you don’t eat in the icebox. That’ll give you plenty for tomorrow too.”

  “How about you help us eat some of it.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he interrupted. “There’ll still be plenty for the icebox.”

  “Thanks.” Gracie buzzed in and flashed him a quick grin. “We’d love to stay for supper.”

  In the flurry of activity that followed, Aaron had a chance to watch Hannah without her being aware. Once again she was dressed in Amish clothing. He wondered if it was a voluntary act or if she had been coerced by her mother and father, or even the bishop. Either way, he loved it and hated it all at the same time. He loved seeing her the way he remembered her, but he hated how it made him feel, like they could start over. Like the last fifteen years didn’t matter.

  “Aaron?” Gracie called from the other room.

  He shook himself from his thoughts, only then realizing that he had been staring at nothing.

  “Are you coming in to eat?”

  “Jah.” Without another word he made his way to the dining table.

  * * *

  Hannah couldn’t name a time when she’d had more fun than tonight. She had enjoyed cooking with Gracie in Aaron’s kitchen, his sweet little girls helping in their own special way. Aaron eating so much he acted like he might explode. His children laughing and enjoying the meal. All in all, it was more like family than she’d had in a long time.

  But it’s not your family.

  She shook the thought away and eased down onto the hard-backed chair on the front porch. Gracie and the girls had shooed her away so they could clean, mainly because Hannah had done the lion’s share of the cooking. Aaron and Andy had headed to the barn for chores. Hannah would have much rather been inside helping and not sitting on the porch all alone.

  Alone was when all the regrets came, the what-ifs and doubts and worries and fears. What happened if she didn’t clear enough from the estate to start over? She had practically nothing to her name. She’d had a few hundred dollars that Mitch hadn’t known about stuffed in a cookie jar and squirreled away. Good thing. Right after he died, the creditors came calling, and the lawyers froze his accounts. It seemed like every day someone new was coming in with their hand out, demanding their piece of the pie before it was all gone. Now with each passing day she worried more and more that once the dust cleared there would be nothing left. Then what would she do?

  “Hannah?”

  She jumped to her feet as Aaron came around the side of the house. He carried a broomstick in one hand and a frown on his face.

  “What are you doing out here?” She pressed one hand t
o her heart to still its wild pounding as she eased back into her seat.

  “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  The sun hadn’t completely set, though the sky was starting to show streaks of dusky purple and deep orange. It wouldn’t be long now.

  “I was kicked out of the kitchen.”

  He chuckled and climbed the porch steps to sit in the chair beside her. “Are your dishwashing skills lacking?”

  “Nope. But since I did most of the cooking—”

  “You did?” He raised his brow in apparent surprise.

  “What? You didn’t think I knew how to cook?”

  He shook his head. “You could cook when you . . . well, you could cook back in the day.”

  She swallowed the sudden knot in her throat. “Why are you surprised that I prepared tonight’s meal?”

  He seemed to think about it a minute, and she wondered if he needed time to figure out his reasoning or make up something nice to tell her. “I guess I figured since you had been out there among the Englisch . . .”

  “That I had forgotten all the Amish ways?” she asked.

  “Something like that.” He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

  “It’s like riding a bike,” she said, using the old adage.

  “What is?” Aaron frowned. “We aren’t allowed to have bikes.”

  “No. It means you don’t forget.”

  Aaron shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  Hannah smiled, his confusion so cute. “Being Amish is something you don’t forget.” And she hadn’t—even after years away, years of living with modern conveniences, she remembered how to light the stove and the wood burner out back on the porch. How many buckets of cold to the number of heated buckets it took to produce the perfect temperature bath. She remembered it all. Just like yesterday. Just like Aaron.

  “And you want to remember?” His voice was so soft, she wondered if she had only imagined it.

  Did she want to remember how to be Amish? It was nothing she could ever forget. She was who she was because of the way she had grown up. And she wouldn’t change that for anything. “Yeah. Sometimes.”