by Amy Lillard
Three loans meant three loans to pay off. Three loans to satisfy before she could start over. Would this nightmare ever end?
“Evidently Mr. McLean had a penchant for gambling, but not one for winning.” He cleared his throat once again.
“There’s not going to be anything left, is there?”
“At this point we’re hoping to negotiate a settlement that will allow you to break even.”
Break even. Not the words she wanted to hear. Not at all. “I guess you’ll keep me apprised?”
“Do you have a new phone number or way that I can reach you?”
Those blasted tears threatened once again. “No,” she whispered, not trusting her own voice to hold steady.
“I suppose I can call the number you gave me during our last call? Is it still in service?”
“Yes.” She said the one clipped word, then hung up the phone. She would not cry on the phone with her attorney. She hated the condescension she heard in his tone. She might be a little sensitive to the situation, but this was not her fault. She was not to blame for her husband’s infidelity, his gambling debts, and all the other expenditures he had hidden from her. She wasn’t to blame for not knowing the ways of the cruel Englisch world, a world where she had never belonged.
It was so obvious. She had never belonged in that world. Nor would she ever. She had only been kidding herself these last fifteen years. She had no control over her life, and she had allowed her husband to take complete advantage of her naïveté.
The entire situation was her fault. If she hadn’t have made so many dumb mistakes and stupid choices she wouldn’t be in the situation she found herself in today.
She pounded one hand against the steering wheel and laid her forehead against it as the tears came. Sobs racked her body, shaking her shoulders as she poured out her grief. Grief for a marriage that should have never been. A son who would never really know his father. A life that was wasted.
How did she get it back? How did she right the wrongs she had created? Where were the answers she had prayed so long and hard for the night before?
My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?
She jerked upright as a knock sounded on the window next to her.
“Are you all right?” The man’s face was pinched with concern.
Hannah supposed it wasn’t every day he encountered an Amish woman crying her eyes out in the bank parking lot.
She rolled down the window, and a blast of heat hit her full in the face. “I’m fine.” She sniffed and tossed him a watery smile, hoping it would suffice.
“Pardon my saying so, but you look about as far from fine as one person can be.”
She couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. It started as a laugh, then quickly morphed into a sob and a hiccup. “How about, I will be fine?” The cry itself had done her some good.
He seemed to think about it for a moment. “Not sure I believe that either.”
His eyes were clear green and full of caring and peace. How did a person walk around looking so calm like that when the world was falling apart? Oh, wait. It was just her world that was unraveling at the seams.
He handed her a tissue through the open window and waited patiently as she dried her eyes and blew her nose.
“It’s just been one of those days. One of those weeks.” She laughed and hiccupped once again. “One of those years.”
One of those lives.
He nodded sympathetically and took a card from the pocket of his short-sleeved button-down shirt. “I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but . . .” He handed it to her. “I don’t know if you have anyone to talk to, but if you ever need someone.” He nodded toward the card.
GOD IS ALWAYS LISTENING.
Matthew 21:22
“And whatever you ask in prayer,
you will receive, if you have faith.”
The paper nearly scorched her fingers, and yet she couldn’t let it go. It was the sign she had been asking for. The answer to everything. At first she had forgotten how to pray, and then she had been praying without faith. Before Jesus performed a miracle, He thanked God for it first. Faith. She had lost faith. But no more.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“There’s a number on the back. You can call anytime, day or night. Someone’s always monitoring the phones.”
“Are you . . . ?” She craned her head back to look at him. Just a kindly man, thirtysomething, maybe a little older. He was a little on the heavy side, with rusty-colored hair and matching beard. He wore blue jeans, a plaid dress shirt, and cowboy boots. He could have been anybody. But she knew that for her he was a messenger from God.
“Jerry Adams. I’m the new preacher at the Baptist church.”
“But . . .” She plucked at her dress, unsure of how to voice her question.
Jerry smiled. “There is room for all of us at God’s feet.”
* * *
It was a sign. She knew it. It was the answer to her prayers and everything she had been waiting for since she had returned to Pontotoc. And yet she had no idea what it really meant.
But her tears had stopped; her confusion was gone. She still didn’t know exactly what she was going to do, but if she and Aaron were going to have a chance, she had to have faith. She had to believe that the answer would come to her. She only had to be patient and faithful.
She parked the car in the side yard and got out. Tomorrow was Brandon’s birthday party. She could hardly believe that her baby was turning fifteen. They had been through so much together. It hardly seemed possible, and yet it felt as if they had spent a lifetime to get to where they were now.
Tillie came out onto the front porch, holding the door open as Gracie peeked out the door behind her.
“Did you get the stuff?” Tillie asked.
Hannah held up the sack from Walmart. “Got it.” Balloons, streamers, a banner that proclaimed Happy Birthday, and a stack of matching plates and napkins. Birthdays were a special occasion, but she knew she had gone a little overboard. Still, she wanted this to be a special time for him. He had taken Mitch’s death pretty hard, which was to be expected. But then, adding in the move, where they had moved, and the limbo in which they found themselves . . . well, she wanted him to know how special he was.
“What about his gift?” Hannah asked her sister. Tillie had been put in charge of securing the best birthday gift an Englisch boy could get in Amish country: a phone charger made from a car battery. That should put a smile on his face.
Tillie nodded. “Melvin said he would bring it by in the morning.”
Tillie’s unofficial boyfriend, Melvin Yoder, was something of an engine whiz. Not many farms used diesel power in the area, but if they needed an engine worked on, they called Melvin. Once upon a time, his father had been the go-to for such repairs, but Melvin had shown a natural knack that had even surpassed his father’s own expertise.
Hannah wondered if his desire to work on engines was affecting Tillie’s doubts over joining the church.
She hadn’t mentioned it again, but Hannah knew those questions were hovering just below the surface. She could almost see them in her sister’s eyes. But Hannah didn’t have all the answers. And more often than not, she regretted her decision to stay with the Englisch. But once she had left there was no turning back. At the time, she had thought she would be able to step back into her Amish life, but in the end, she hadn’t even tried. And all because of one man.
Hannah handed the sack off to Gracie and stepped into the house. The sweet scents of sugar and vanilla filled the air. “Is the cake almost done?”
“Mamm pulled it out of the oven a bit ago. Smells good, jah?” Tillie asked.
Hannah nodded. Their mother made the best cake in all of Northeast Mississippi.
“And guess what?” Gracie said, her voice gushing with excitement.
“What?”
Her sister and her cousin shared a look. “Leah’s home!” t
hey said together.
The words buzzed in Hannah’s ears. “Leah?” How long had it been since she had seen her twin sister? Over fifteen years.
Movement caught her attention from the corner of her eye. Hannah turned to see her sister standing there. Leah had her hair pulled back, as she had when they were growing up, and wore a red, long-sleeved shirt and a denim skirt that reached her ankles.
“Leah?” she whispered again.
Tears filled Leah’s eyes and a smile trembled on her lips as she rushed in to hug Hannah.
Chapter Twenty
Hannah could hardly believe it.
“When did you get back?” Leah asked.
After their initial greeting, the four of them sat around the table munching on cookies and enjoying being together.
Hannah shrugged. “A couple of weeks ago.” She said the words knowing it had been too long. She should have called her sister before now. “I’m sorry,” she said, even as her sister’s eyes filled with pain. But hadn’t it always been that way?
She was forever hurting those who loved her.
Leah had followed her out of Pontotoc to help her survive life with the Englisch, believing that one day they would return to their Amish home.
But before Hannah had made up her mind that she’d had enough of the world, she had learned that Aaron was seeing another. She couldn’t go home if he was in love with someone else. Leah had gotten tired of being away and wanted to return to Pontotoc. Hannah had known that Leah hadn’t wanted to leave to begin with, but she had talked her into it anyway. Then one horrible argument later, and she had barely seen her sister since.
How had she let her pride dictate her life?
“It’s all right.” Leah sniffed, then gave her a watery smile. “We’re here now.”
Hannah returned her smile. “It’s been a little overwhelming to be home.”
“But you’re here, and that’s all that matters.”
* * *
The guests started to arrive around midday. Not that there were many guests that weren’t part of the family. Aaron and his kids came first. Laura Kate and Essie raced across the yard to see who could get to her first. Andy hung back as if he still wasn’t sure what her purpose was in their lives.
“Danki, danki, danki for inviting us to the party,” Laura Kate said.
Every time Hannah had seen her, the girl had been deadly serious. Maybe the party was just what Laura Kate needed to come out of her shell. Andy too.
Essie was her typical bubbly self. “We brought Brandon a gift.” She jumped up and down in place as if bringing a present was the most exciting thing she had ever done. She stopped dancing and lowered her voice to a perfect stage whisper. She leaned forward, though the gesture was not necessary. “It’s a shirt. But Dat said that everybody needs a new shirt from time to time.” She pulled herself back into place, a satisfied smile on her lips.
Laura Kate elbowed her in the ribs.
“Ouch!” Essie jumped as if she had been poked with a stick.
“You aren’t supposed to tell,” Laura Kate said.
Hannah grabbed Essie’s arm and her attention before she could retaliate. “I’m sure it’s okay this one time. Brandon’s not around right now.”
She wasn’t sure where he’d gone, but he would turn up sooner or later. Most likely sooner, since there was food involved.
“You’re dressed funny today.”
“Essie,” Laura Kate admonished.
“What?”
She leaned in closer to her sister, but Hannah could still hear every word. “That’s rude.”
“But—” Essie tried her protest again, but Laura Kate shook her head. “Can I ask her why she’s dressed like an Englischer?”
“No.”
“But she was dressed Amish the last time we saw her. Does this mean she’s leaving?”
“I don’t know what it means, but you still shouldn’t ask.”
“How am I going to learn anything if I don’t ask questions?” Essie poked out her bottom lip.
“You’ll learn what you’re supposed to learn when you’re supposed to learn it.”
Essie rolled her eyes at her sister, and Hannah had to hide her laugh.
She couldn’t have answered Essie’s questions even if she had wanted to. She didn’t have any of those answers. She changed her dress willy-nilly depending on her mood. Today she thought she should be dressed in her own clothes. Well, the ones she had brought with her to Pontotoc—blue jeans, flip-flops, and a Tennessee Titans T-shirt.
She hadn’t given her choice much thought until now. Her decision had been based more on what was clean than anything religious or spiritual.
“There’s Dat.” Essie took off toward her father in a dead run, with Laura Kate following behind.
Andy looked from his sisters’ departing backs to Hannah. “I like your fried chicken.”
Hannah blinked. Had Andy ever said one word to her? Not that she could remember. “Th-thank you,” she finally managed.
“I told my dat he should marry you,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“You did?” I wonder how Aaron took that.
“You would make a good mamm.” He nodded his head as if the matter were settled, then shoved his hands under his suspender straps and sauntered after his sisters.
* * *
As far as parties went, Brandon wouldn’t call it lame, but he was certain some of his friends back in Nashville would think it was. He didn’t care. He had a homemade cake that tasted like heaven on a fork—his grandmother had given him a taste the night before—his favorite girl, and his favorite cousin. What more could a guy want? Maybe one thing.
His mother dressed in regular clothes. Best. Present. Ever.
He was getting worried over the reasons why she had started dressing like the other Gingerich women, but today she looked like his mom again. Maybe she wasn’t wearing any makeup, but her hair was down and her clothes were normal. And that made the day just perfect.
“Come on, Brandon,” Joshua called. “It’s your turn.”
He started over to the flat place in the yard where they had set up the stakes to pitch horseshoes. At first Brandon hadn’t wanted to play. It was his party, after all, and if he didn’t want to play lame-o games then he shouldn’t have to. But after watching the others carefully aim and try to ring the stake with the horseshoe, he decided to try it for himself. It was surprisingly fun. It took a lot of concentration and accuracy to make the highest points, and he found himself laughing along with his teammates, and the opposing team as well.
“Are you having fun?” he asked Shelly as he passed. She was sitting in a lawn chair, cup in one hand as she watched the others play.
She took a drink of her punch and smiled. “I’m having a great time. Tillie promised to share her quick-pickle recipe with me later.”
He didn’t know Shelly liked to cook, but he supposed if he’d thought about it he would have. She was so much like his mother and his aunts, and they liked all those domestic chores—canning, pickling, baking.
“Come play horseshoes with me.”
She smiled and set down her cup. “You mean pitch horseshoes.”
Brandon returned her grin. “Yeah, pitch them.”
“One game,” she said. “Then I’m going to find Tillie about that recipe before she changes her mind.”
* * *
Hannah spied Tillie on the porch swing and seized the opportunity. She had been wanting to talk to her sister about her looming decision.
“Hey.” She slid onto the bench seat next to her.
“Hey, yourself.” Tillie scooted over to make room.
“It’s a good party, yeah?”
Tillie glanced toward the yard where everyone had gathered.
Most of the guests had grouped in one place or another—the food table, the grill where her father flipped burgers and mopped his sweaty brow, the horseshoe stakes, or the impromptu game of kickball that had sprung up with the younger set.
Hannah could see Essie and Laura Kate chasing after the ball, laughing the way little girls should.
“Jah, good,” Tillie replied, but Hannah had lost the thread of the conversation.
She roused herself out of her thoughts and centered her attention on her sister. “How are things with Melvin?”
Tillie nodded. “Good. Good. He said he would be here with the present before we eat cake.”
That was cutting it close, but Hannah didn’t mind. As long as he got there before Brandon started opening gifts. “That’s fine.”
“I was hoping he would be able to come for the entire party, but his dat needed his help this morning.” There was an unexplained wistfulness in her tone. Did it have something to do with her indecision over joining the church?
“It’s okay,” Hannah assured her.
Tillie nodded, but Hannah could tell that she didn’t agree. Maybe whatever was standing in her way of making a decision also had something to do with Melvin.
“Have you thought any more about joining the church?” Might as well jump in with both feet.
Tillie shot her a sly smile. “What about you? Have you given it any more thought?”
Blindsided—that was the only way to describe how Hannah felt in that moment. “I—I . . . uh, I’m not thinking about joining the church,” she finally managed. But the words were a lie, and she immediately regretted them. Strange the habits she had picked up in the Englisch world. Like withholding the truth in order to protect herself.
“Then why are you dressing Amish?”
Hannah gestured toward her Englisch duds. “I’m not.”
“You have been.”
Hannah couldn’t argue with that. “It’s easier,” she said. “Sometimes.”
“And today?”
Would Tillie understand that she had worn jeans for Brandon, or would she think it was something else? Was it? Hannah didn’t know. “I thought this would be better.”
“Uh-huh.” Tillie’s expression stated otherwise.
“What about you? Have you given your decision any more thought?”
“It’s something I think about every day.”
“But no answer?”
Tillie folded her fingers into the pleats in her apron. “It’s complicated.”