A Home for Hannah

by Amy Lillard

  “I dunno. I’ll have to ask Mom.”

  “That’s all right. I can ask her.”

  Brandon nodded. “If she says yes, then I guess that would be okay.”

  “Jah,” Aaron agreed. It would be okay. And a small, small start.

  * * *

  “Let me get this straight. You invited me to supper tonight at your house, but I’m going to have to cook?”

  Aaron rubbed the back of his neck and shot her a sheepish grin. “Something like that. Jah. Are you mad?”

  Hannah chuckled. How could she be upset with him? After only a day he had seemed to forgive her. Or at least to try. Now it was up to her. “No.”

  “I thought it would be a good idea for the kids to spend a little time together before we tell them.”

  Hannah hadn’t thought about that. She had only been concerned with telling Brandon, but Aaron was going to have to tell his children too. How would they handle the news? “That’s probably a good idea.”

  “Have you thought any more about talking to Brandon?”

  She shook her head. She hadn’t been able to think of anything other than the bishop’s ultimatum and her unanswered prayers. When she hadn’t been able to commit one hundred percent she had been afraid that her father would revert back to ignoring her. So far that hadn’t happened. “No,” she finally said.

  Disappointment scarred his features. “He’s a good kid, Hannah.”

  A lump of mixed emotions clogged her throat.

  “I just want a chance to get to know him.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “And you’ll get that chance. I promise.”

  * * *

  “What do you think is going on?” Shelly asked.

  It had been almost a week since Brandon’s birthday party, and his mom was acting weirder every day.

  “I don’t know,” he whispered in return. He propped up the large book in front of him to help hide from the watchful eyes of the librarian. She was nice enough, but if he spent too much time talking to Shelly, he knew she would tell her mother. Other than Joshua, Shelly was the only friend he had here, and he surely didn’t want to blow it.

  “No idea at all?”

  He shook his head. “I mean, she started acting strange at the party, but I figured it was just ‘Oh, my baby’s turning fifteen’ crap. You know how moms are. But she’s just been acting weirder and weirder.”

  “Okay. Tell me what she’s doing, and I’ll see if I can find a pattern.” That was his Shelly, always with a plan.

  He smiled at her, so thankful that he had met her. He’d heard people talking about serendipity and kismet—even the Amish talked about God’s will. He supposed it was all about the same thing. What was meant to be would be, and being in the right place at the right time. He was just glad he had come into the library at the right time that first day.

  “Well, every night this week we’ve either gone over to Aaron’s house or he’s come over to ours. Well, my grandmother’s, you know.”

  She nodded. “And are they spending a lot of time alone?”

  “Not really. I mean, that was what I was thinking too. Like maybe she has a thing for this guy. But they aren’t holding hands or making goo-goo eyes at each other.” The thought was a little sickening. Another reason to be glad it wasn’t happening. Thinking about it was bad enough. But to actually see it? He shuddered.

  “The Amish are different,” Shelly explained. “They don’t hold hands and things like that. I mean, not when other people are around.”

  Brandon frowned. “Do you think she has a thing for this guy?”

  Shelly shrugged. “It’s possible, I guess. Didn’t you say that they knew each other before?”

  “Yeah.” He leaned back in his chair, then sat forward when he realized he was clearly in the librarian’s sight. “But if she has a thing for this guy . . .” His dad had only been gone a couple of months. Could she be ready to move on and get married again?

  “If they are serious about each other, I think your mom has to join the Amish church.”

  “Is that a big deal?” Something in Shelly’s tone told him it was.

  “Yeah.” She shook her head. “I’ll see what I can find out, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay.” But he felt anything but satisfied. “If she joins the church, does that mean I do too?”

  Shelly pulled a face. “I think so. But I’m not sure.”

  Everyone he knew who was Amish dressed the same and lived in plain white houses and went to church for three hours every other Sunday. No one had electricity or indoor toilets or phones. He might could do that for a time, but that didn’t mean he would want to live that way for the rest of his life. The last few weeks had been hard enough. And he had been willing to give it a try to take some of that stress from his mom’s eyes, but he couldn’t live like this forever! He wouldn’t even do it for another three years.

  One more week, he told himself. When they had first arrived in Pontotoc he had vowed three weeks. It had been over a month. He’d give her one more week, and after that, something was going to change.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said,” Leah complained, crossing her arms and shooting Hannah a look she knew all too well.

  “Sorry.” She hadn’t been listening. She had been lost in her own thoughts.

  She had one more week to make her decision. Seven days, and yet she was no closer to an answer than she had been the day she drove into Pontotoc. Every night she had prayed. Every night she asked God to give her an answer. Every night she told Him that she surrendered all unto Him. But every morning, the same problems were still there.

  “Tell me again,” Hannah asked.

  They were sitting on the porch enjoying an afternoon away from canning. It wouldn’t be long until there were no quiet days, just hours measured in how many quarts of tomatoes they had put up.

  “Have you seen that empty shop downtown, there on Main?”

  “The one next to the new Chinese place?”

  “That’s it.”

  “What about it?” Hannah asked.

  “I’m thinking about opening a shop.”

  Hannah blinked, unsure that she had heard her sister correctly. “A shop?”

  “Yeah.” Leah nodded. “A resale shop.”

  “There are three or four of those on Main already.”

  “There are two, and mine will be different.” Leah raised one brow as if daring Hannah to contradict her.

  “How so?” Discussing Leah’s new idea might be a fine distraction from her own life. How many times did she have to ask God for an answer before she got one? She was running out of time.

  “I’m going to gear it toward Plain people.”

  Hannah shook her head. “You lost me.”

  “I’m only going to take in clothing suitable for Mennonite men and women to wear. And then housewares and that sort of thing.”

  “What about commissions?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “And the Amish?”

  Leah’s face lit up. “That’s the biggie. I want to set up a swap in the back for the Amish community.”

  Hannah thought about it a moment. “Are you going to charge?”

  “No, that’ll be my offering to the community.”

  “I see.” Hannah gave an exaggerated nod. “You’re trying to get in good with the bishop.”

  Leah laughed. “You should try it sometime.”

  “Just because you hadn’t joined the Amish church before you hooked up with the Mennonites is no reason for him to give you a clean slate.”

  “Jealous much?”

  It had nothing to do with jealousy. And everything to do with Aaron and Brandon.

  Leah grew quiet, as if sensing Hannah’s thoughts. “The Mennonites are great people. I think you would like the church.”

  “And you’re going to drive to Southaven every Sunday in order to go to church?” She would if she rented the store in town.

/>   “There’s a Mennonite church in town.”

  “In Pontotoc?” Hannah didn’t bother to hide her surprise.

  “On Second Street. You could come with me.” But becoming Mennonite would not solve her problems. It would only shift them to a new religion.

  “What are you going to do?” Leah asked.

  Hannah blew out a frustrated breath and went to stand by the porch railing. She leaned against it, her back to the yard. “There’s no answer.” She threw her hands into the air and let them fall back against her thighs. “I’ve prayed and prayed, but there is no answer.”

  “There’s always an answer.”

  God is always listening.

  “Then what is it?”

  She could join the church, but what about Brandon? She still had to tell him that Aaron was his father. It wasn’t like the bishop would allow him to stay in the community and drive a car and do all the other things she knew he had been waiting for half his life.

  “Do you want to join the church?” Leah asked.

  “Yes. I mean, I think so.”

  “You either do, or you don’t.”

  What did she want?

  A time machine to go back and make different choices. But since that wasn’t an option . . .

  “I guess so. I mean, I—Aaron—”

  “Spit it out, sister.”

  Hannah shook her head and gathered her thoughts. “Aaron and I might have a second chance together. But not unless I join the church.”

  “So I’ll ask again. Do you want to join the church or not?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “It never is.” Leah swung one leg up into the swing and used the other to push herself back and forth. “What happens if you join the church?”

  “I’m afraid I’ll alienate Brandon completely. He’s going to be upset enough when the truth comes out.” She lowered her voice even though she had just seen him disappear over the ridge with Joshua, fishing poles in hand.

  “And the bishop?”

  “I don’t know.” Hannah bit her lip and shook her head. “I just don’t know. I don’t think he’ll let him live with me with the Amish and carry on like an Englischer.”

  “And he’s not going to want to join the church.”

  Hannah shot her a look. “You didn’t even join the church.”

  Leah grinned. “But you’re thinking about it, and that just goes to prove miracles are still alive and well.”

  “Ha. Ha.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Hannah wished she could agree. She could use one of those miracles right about now.

  “Are you really going to join the church?”

  Hannah pushed off the railing and nudged Leah’s leg out of the swing before returning to her place beside her sister. “I called my attorney the other day. When this whole thing started I thought I would have enough to start over. Now that’s not looking good for me.”

  “Is that what this is?” Leah asked. “A do-over?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I’ve thought about that too, but I’ve so enjoyed being back here. It’s so quiet and peaceful. The only thing you have to worry about is what’s for supper.”

  “And heating water, and cleaning the outhouse. Face it; this is a hard life. You and I both know that.”

  “But there’s something beautiful about it. Its simplicity, I guess.”

  “And that’s what you want? Simplicity?”

  “I just never noticed it before.”

  “Maybe because you were too busy trying to find out everything you could about the Englisch world.”

  “Maybe.” Or maybe she had been too young to appreciate it. Or perhaps she had to live the life she had lived in order to see what she had left behind. “But I want a piece of it now.”

  “Forever?”

  The thought didn’t send her stomach plummeting to the floor. “Yeah. I think I do.”

  “Then isn’t that your answer?”

  “Brandon,” she said.

  “Basically you have to choose between your son and the man you love.”

  “Now you understand why I’m having such a hard time. I mean, I know I can’t leave Brandon, but there’s this part of me . . .”

  Leah nodded. “I get it. You’re a mother, but you’re a woman too.”

  A mother who kept hoping for a miracle. An answer in God’s promise. An answer that was not forthcoming.

  * * *

  Hannah pulled into Aaron’s drive and shut off the engine. But she didn’t get out of the car. This . . . this was the last thing she wanted to do. But it was over. She had searched and prayed, begged, then searched and prayed some more, but there was no answer from God or anyone else. She was in charge of this, and she had to see it through.

  She blew out a heavy breath and got out of the car. It was two o’clock, and Aaron’s kids would still be at school. That was good. She needed to talk to him all alone.

  He came around the side of the house, a bag of clothespins swinging from one hand.

  “Hannah?”

  “Hi.”

  He squinted as if he didn’t recognize her. She supposed to him she looked so different than the Hannah she had been portraying these last few weeks. But it was her in her Englisch clothes, driving her beat-up clunker of a car, no longer pretending that any of this could work itself out.

  “What are you doing here?”

  At least he didn’t ask her about her clothes, but they would get to all that soon enough.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  He swallowed hard, but nodded. They both knew; this was a conversation they’d rather not have.

  “Want to come in the house?”

  She shook her head and nodded toward the bag he carried. “Doing laundry?”

  “Just a random load. Essie slipped and fell into a cow patty yesterday.”

  Hannah laughed. “Poor Essie.”

  “Poor Aaron. She’s off at school, and I’m left to clean up the mess.”

  How did he manage to get everything done as both mother and father? The responsibility was staggering, much more than an Englisch single parent would face. Hannah knew he had help, and yet deep down, she suspected it wouldn’t be long before he married again. His year of mourning was almost over. Three kids and a farm were more than one man could handle alone.

  There had been that small window of time when she had allowed herself to believe she might be that woman. But now she could see clearly. They hadn’t stood a chance. Not with everything they faced.

  “Come around back?” He didn’t wait for her to respond, just spun on his heel and led the way to the backyard.

  Like most Amish houses in the area, Aaron’s had a laundry wheel attached to the back-porch post. The line itself stretched toward the upper level of the barn and ran perpendicular to the wire laden with martin bird-gourds. The homemade birdhouses swayed in the warm breeze.

  “So,” Aaron said, pulling another dress from the basket near the porch’s edge. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “I think you know.”

  He looked back at her even as he pinned the dress to the line. There was no mistaking with the way she was dressed. There was no mistaking her intentions.

  “Just let me finish this . . .” He trailed off and hung another dress on the line.

  Hannah shifted from one foot to the other, waiting as patiently as she could. It was not easy, knowing what needed to be said and having to wait to actually get the words out. But she would do this, for him.

  “Okay.” When the last dress was on the line, Aaron grabbed his basket and made his way to the back door. “Are you coming?”

  She started up the steps after him. “Don’t you have someone to help with the laundry?”

  He nodded and set the basket in the small mudroom at the back of the house. “The bishop’s wife comes once a week, but if something happens in the meantime . . .”

  “Like Essie falls into a cow patty?”

  “Exactly
. Then I’m stuck doing a load in between.”

  How long would that last? How long before he remarried? How was she going to stand by and watch him reach for a happiness that might have been theirs?

  He led the way into the kitchen, and they sat down at the table, facing each other but silent. Not the best way to talk, but really? What needed to be said was so hard she wasn’t sure she could get the words out.

  “Say it,” he quietly commanded.

  “I’m not joining the church.” But that was just the tip of the iceberg, as they say. “I’m so very, very sorry.” Tears rose into her eyes, but she wiped them away with the back of one hand. The time for crying had long since passed.

  “I understand.”

  “Do you?” she cried. “Because I’m not sure I do.”

  There was so much at stake. She knew she hadn’t lived the life she had been raised to live, but she had worked hard her entire life. Why was God abandoning her now when she needed Him the most?

  Aaron took her hands into his own. “You’re a good mother, Hannah. I knew you would do what was best for your child, above anything you wanted for yourself. I would have done the same.”

  She shook her head, but didn’t pull away. “Why isn’t there a way that everyone can get what they need?”

  “That’s for God to know.”

  “Ugh!” She growled and pulled her hands away. She scrubbed them over her face, smearing her tears in the process. “It’s not fair.”

  “But it’s the way it is.”

  She stopped, wiped at her tears once again, and eyed him. “You knew all along.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “I had my suspicions.”

  “Why did you let me go on like that?”

  “Hope. Faith. I wanted to believe that there was an answer as badly as you did. That if we both believed hard enough and long enough, it might just come true.”

  “Aren’t we a pair?”

  “I love you,” he said quietly. “I have always loved you and I believe that I always will, but I understand. The choices we’ve made have led us here. We can’t go back. We can only go forward.”

  And right now forward meant “alone.”

  “Are you moving to Ohio?”

  He shook his head. “I would like to be close to Brandon. See him from time to time. I know he may never accept me as his father, but I would like to spend time with him occasionally.”