by Amy Lillard
She choked back a sob. “That was so unfair of me. And I know that you’ll forgive me.” It was simply the Amish way. “But I can’t ask for it.” She shook her head. Maybe she had been living with the Englisch for too long, but as much as she needed Aaron’s forgiveness, what she had done was simply unforgiveable.
“I want to spend some time with him.”
Hannah’s heart sank. What had she expected? For him to demand her to ask him for forgiveness? Would she be absolved if he had? “He can’t know.”
“Hannah.” The one word was loaded with anger, hurt, and disbelief.
She put her hands to her ears to stop the buzzing that had taken up there. She had started this, and she had to see it through. “Just give me a minute to think, Aaron.”
“What’s there to think about? You’ve had him and hidden him from me for the last fifteen years. An afternoon at the farm is the least you could do.”
Her hands fell to her lap. “He can’t know,” she said, hoping her tone was as emphatic as she intended. She couldn’t be sure; everything she said tended to sound like a question.
Because you know you are wrong. You have wronged this man, you’ve wronged your son, and now you have to do whatever it takes to make things right.
“I don’t want to tell him yet. He just lost his father—”
“I am his father.”
She shook her head. “Mitch has been the only father he’s known. I’ll tell him, just not right now. There’s a time and a place. I’ll find it, but I’ll only tell him then.”
She could see that Aaron wanted to protest, but he held his tongue. Finally he gave a stern nod. “You have two weeks. After that, I’ll tell him myself.”
* * *
Somehow Aaron made it through the next hour without losing what control he had over his temper. He had never known that he had a temper until today. He had managed not to shake Hannah until she changed her mind. He hadn’t raised his fist to the sky and railed to the heavens for the injustices that he had been served. Not just him, but Brandon as well. Brandon. His son.
Hannah had promised that he could spend time with Brandon tomorrow. She needed tonight to figure out a way to arrange it so that Brandon wouldn’t be suspicious, but Aaron was to come over tomorrow and work with Abner’s mare, and she would take care of everything from there.
“Dat! Dat!” Essie dashed into the house, one hand on her head to hold her prayer kapp in place as she ran. “Look what Nancy gave us.” She whirled around, but no one was there. “Laura Kate,” she yelled. “Hurry up!”
Laura Kate finally came through the door toting a large sack filled with jars of pickles, two loaves of bread, and two new dresses for the girls.
“Look at them!” Essie danced in place as she held the dark green dress in front of her. “It’s so pretty. And Laura Kate has one just like it. Now we can be twins like Hannah and Leah.”
And to think he’d almost pushed her from his mind.
“And she made Andy a shirt too,” Essie said.
Just then her brother came in, shutting the door behind him. Until that moment, Aaron hadn’t given any thought as to how Brandon and his newly uncovered relationship with him would change the dynamics of his family.
Andy would go from being the oldest to being in the middle and from being the only boy to one of two.
And what were they going to do?
“She wanted to know if we made any decisions about Ohio.” Andy made a face as he sat down at the kitchen table across from Aaron.
Ohio. “What did you tell her?” he asked.
Andy shrugged one shoulder. “That we don’t know yet.” He sighed. “We don’t, do we?”
Aaron shook his head. “No,” he choked out. “Not yet.” But he knew: a move now was completely out of the question.
Chapter Twenty-Three
When Hannah pulled her car to a stop in the side yard at her parents’ house, she was faced with the last thing she wanted to see: the bishop’s buggy parked near the barn and the bishop himself waiting in the drive. Her father hovered nearby.
She cut the engine, grabbed her purse, and got out of the car.
“Hello,” she called in greeting.
The bishop nodded, his unsmiling expression unreadable. Honestly, the man always looked that way. How was she supposed to know what he was thinking if he always looked the same?
“I think you should join us, Abner,” the bishop said as Hannah drew near.
Great. That was just what she needed. She and her father had barely gotten back on speaking terms. She didn’t need him to turn against her again.
“As you wish.” Dat nodded toward the work shed. “Let me go tell the boys, and I’ll meet you inside.”
Her father headed off toward the shed, and Hannah was left alone with Amos.
“Let’s go inside,” she suggested, suddenly more nervous than she had ever been in her life. She knew what was about to come, had known it for weeks. So why did she feel like the world had just been jerked from underneath her feet?
He cleared his throat and held his ground. “I would like to ask you about the uh, car.”
A small, non-humorous laugh escaped her. “It’s not mine.”
“But you’re driving it.”
She nodded. “It’s my son’s. He has to go to school in town, and I have to take him.”
“And you can’t take him in a proper carriage?”
All the excuses that popped to her lips were weak at best. The car was quicker. Her son would have a fit if he had to ride in a buggy. “It just seems easier . . . ?”
“And dressed like that?” He gave a scalding look to her Amish frack, apron, and prayer kapp. She would have thought her manner of dress might make him happy, but she could see now that she was wrong. Though she wasn’t sure if she had been dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt that it would have made any difference to him at all.
“I’m sorry,” she managed.
“It’s unacceptable.” He looked down his nose at her, but Hannah couldn’t find fault with his disapproval. His job was to keep everything running smooth in the church, and she was nothing less than a jagged pothole mucking up the road.
“I—I—” But she had no words to defend her behavior. She had gotten up, not with this meeting in mind, but the one to come—the one with Aaron—even more prominent in her thoughts. She hadn’t been thinking about what she was wearing when she drove to town.
But you knew what you were doing at Brandon’s party.
So she was confused. How could she not be? She had a foot in each world and no clear direction. No matter how many times she had asked God, she still had no answer.
“You didn’t have to wait.” Her father came out of the barn, and Hannah was saved having to reply.
The men turned and made their way toward the house, leaving Hannah to trail behind.
Lord, take this decision from me, she prayed. I have surrendered it to You. I don’t have the answer on my own. I need Your help.
But she still didn’t know what to do as she made her way into the house.
Her mother cast them all a cautious glance, then bustled into the kitchen to warm up the coffee and find them a mid-morning snack.
“Now,” the bishop said once Mamm had poured everyone a cup and slid into the chair next to Hannah. “I feel we’ve let this go on long enough.” He shot Hannah a pointed look. “We are very glad to have you back in the community, but we have rules, as you know. I need to know your intentions.”
Where’s my answer, Lord? I want to stay.
Until that moment she hadn’t realized that it was true. She did want to stay with her family. She wanted to join the church, reconnect with everyone, especially Aaron, but there was one big problem standing in her way. Brandon.
How could she have both? How could she rejoin her Amish roots and raise her Englisch son?
The son who should have been Amish.
She shook her head at herself. Wasn’t it all part of God’s will
? Did she even know what God’s will was anymore? She had prayed and prayed the other night. Prayed harder than she had prayed in years. And yet she was no closer to an answer now than she had been then.
“Hannah?”
She jerked her attention to her mother.
“Are you okay?” Mamm asked.
Hannah nodded, even though it was a lie. What was one more?
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry?” the bishop asked.
“I don’t know,” she repeated, louder this time.
Her mother and father sat in stunned silence. They had been hopeful that she would somehow make her way back into the fold. She had been hopeful too, but the answer wasn’t there. She didn’t know how to make it work. She had asked for answers, but she hadn’t received even one. Where was God when she needed Him?
God is always listening.
Why wasn’t He listening now?
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. Her heart pounded in her throat. She could practically hear the blood rushing through her ears. There were too many decisions to make. She needed help, and yet there was none.
“This is not an acceptable answer,” the bishop said with a frown. At least this time his expression and his words matched. She knew exactly what he was thinking.
“I know.” Hannah clasped her hands around her coffee mug. “I don’t have the answers.”
My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?
I just need to know what to do. How can I have all that I need? How can I become Amish again and take care of my Englisch son?
“I cannot allow this to go on indefinitely,” Amos said. “You have two weeks to make a decision. That is more than enough time.”
He didn’t need to say what would happen if she didn’t decide. She would have to leave, and an official Bann would begin. The time of reckoning was near.
The bishop stood, and her father quickly followed.
“The most important thing is that you’re home,” Amos said. “That’s a big step in the right direction. I’m sure the answers are closer than you think.”
She wished.
He nodded toward Mamm, then headed for the door, her father on his heels.
“I thought you were going to stay,” her mother whispered, eyes focused on the table in front of her.
“I never said that.” If Hannah had known how cold the words would actually sound, she never would have said them. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to leave,” Mamm continued.
Hannah shook her head. “I don’t see how I can stay.”
“There’s a way,” Mamm said.
But how can you leave?
Aaron deserved a chance to know his son. Brandon deserved to know his real father. Yet, what kind of relationship could they have if she remained out of the church? What would the bishop allow?
And what about Aaron? They had almost reached a new point of understanding. She loved him. And he loved her, or so he had said. But now she suspected that everything he felt for her was buried underneath the lies of the last fifteen years.
* * *
Overwhelmed was not quite the word for what she felt when Aaron pulled his buggy into the drive less than two hours later.
She had gone into town to pick up Brandon, so very aware of driving the car and everyone’s stares. She had to endure stares from her family when she changed into Englisch clothes, though she left her hair pulled back in its tight bob. She was certain everyone in town was staring at her as she drove to the library. And then Brandon cast curious glances at her all the way home.
“Brandon,” she called. “Aaron is here.”
Brandon came out of the kitchen, a sandwich in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “So?”
Hannah shrugged nonchalantly. “I thought you might want to go watch him work with the mare today.”
His eyes lit up, but he shrugged his shoulders and took a bite of the sandwich as if it were no big deal. “I guess. Maybe.”
She stepped out onto the porch and motioned for Brandon to follow. Thankfully he did, stopping next to her as Aaron let himself into the corral.
“Have you known him for a long time?” Brandon asked.
If she said the question surprised her, it would be a gross understatement. “Yes. Why?”
Brandon cocked his head to one side in lieu of a shrug. “I dunno. It seems like you know him pretty good.”
You could say that.
“Aaron and I grew up here together.”
“Is that all?”
Hannah eyed him curiously. “Are you asking me if he was my boyfriend?”
Brandon had the grace to turn pink even though he maintained his cool attitude. “Maybe. The two of you seem . . .” He trailed off, and she was glad he did. Was it so obvious that even a self-absorbed fifteen-year-old boy could see what simmered between them?
“Well, that was a long time ago,” Hannah said primly. Her tone was one her mother had used a hundred times.
“So there is something between you two.” Brandon chuckled.
“Was,” she corrected. “Are you going to go watch him?”
“I dunno.”
“I thought you were interested in how he works with the horses. I’m sure he would tell you about it if you asked.”
“I suppose.” He loped down the steps and started for the corral.
Hannah watched him, her heart in her throat. She knew in that moment she couldn’t keep father and son apart. She had to do whatever it took. She owed them both that much.
* * *
Was this really Hannah’s idea of spending time together? Aaron glanced over to where Brandon had climbed up on the slatted wooden gate to watch. If he had been Amish, Aaron would have asked for the boy to come stay with him, help with farm chores and the like. But he wasn’t Amish, and Aaron didn’t have the first clue as to what he liked.
Andy was into kickball and going fishing when he wasn’t at school or doing chores. But Aaron had a feeling that kickball would seem juvenile to Brandon. If Aaron remembered right, he had seen Brandon pitch horseshoes at his party, but Aaron’s attention had been torn between the party itself and the truth about the boy.
Aaron grabbed Star’s reins and gently tugged her toward him. He released them and took a step back, hoping she would follow. He smiled when she did. He repeated the exercise until they were on the other side of the corral where Brandon sat.
Knowing she had done what he wanted, Star butted her head against his chest.
He laughed and retrieved the two sugar cubes he had put there for her.
“Why did you do that?” Brandon asked.
Aaron turned his attention to the boy. “Because she did what I wanted.”
“You wanted her to follow you across the pen?”
Aaron rubbed the horse’s soft nose, and she blew out a snorting thanks. “Jah.”
Brandon shook his head. “Why?”
Aaron gathered the reins once more and tugged the horse close. He patted her neck, giving her the love and attention he knew she had lacked with her previous owners. “It’s about trust. She needs to know that I won’t hurt her. That I care about her and love her. That I will uphold my promise to care for her.”
The parallels between his relationship with the horse and his fledgling relationship with Brandon slammed into him. He would have to take this slow, build trust.
Last night he had listened to the things Hannah hadn’t said. If her late husband hadn’t been able to look past Brandon’s parentage . . . Aaron could easily suppose that they didn’t have the best relationship. And, like Star, he would be leery of others, protective of his heart, withholding of his affections.
As much as Aaron wanted to run headlong into this new realm of fatherhood, he had to go slow, for all their sakes—his, Hannah’s, and Brandon’s as well as Andy’s, Laura Kate’s, and Essie’s.
A family. They could all be a family. He nearly staggered with the thought. Never in hi
s wildest dreams had he imagined he would have a second chance with Hannah, and even though he needed a little more time before the forgiveness would come, he would forgive her. And if she stayed . . . if Brandon stayed . . . Aaron would stay, and the six of them could be a family.
It was more than he could have ever prayed for.
And what of the church?
How would the church handle the situation with Brandon? It was unusual, to be certain, but Amos Raber was a fair man. He might be harder than most, but he cared about family and keeping the community as one. Aaron was confident that they could figure out a solution that would suit them all. They had to. They simply had to.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Aaron shifted his attention to the boy sitting on the gate. Until then, he hadn’t been aware that he had been staring at the ground, a thousand thoughts swirling around his head. “Jah. Sure.”
“And you won’t get mad or all offended?”
Aaron’s heart gave a hard pound in his chest. He wasn’t sure he could honestly say, but this was about trust. “Okay.”
“Why does everyone’s hair look like they had a bowl plopped on their head before they got it cut? All the guys, I mean.”
Aaron bit back a laugh. “I never thought about it much. That’s just how we do it.”
“Is that why everyone dresses the same too?”
“It’s about community and God.”
Brandon frowned. “Why does God care what you wear?”
“God cares about everything.”
He seemed to think about it a moment. “You think?”
“I know.”
Brandon fell quiet.
“If you’re curious about the Amish, maybe you should talk to your mother about it.”
The boy nodded, but he still wore that contemplative look. “Is that bad? To be curious?”
Aaron shook his head. “Not at all. It’s only natural, since your mother grew up here.”
“I suppose.” Brandon hopped down from the gate and gave him a quick wave. “Thanks for letting me watch you.” He turned to leave, but Aaron stopped him.
“Brandon?”
“Yeah?”
“How would you and your mother like to come to my house for supper tonight?”