by Dalia Wright
“I don’t know,” Martha said. “I wish I had the answer, but they answered the call. They are in Gott’s Kingdom now. Take comfort in that, Hannah.”
For years, Hannah had believed it was possible for her heart to actually break like a bone. Every month that had passed with no sign of a bobli, a tiny fracture appeared on her heart. Staring at the white walls distantly, Hannah felt her entire heart shatter into millions of shards. There was no amount of comfort or prayer that could fix that feeling.
Chapter Six
They buried Miriam and the bobli, a little girl Attlee named Ruth, a few days later in the cemetery a few miles away from their community. They buried them beneath the flaming red oak tree that Hannah knew Miriam would love.
Hannah stared down at the patch of dying grass that had been placed over the freshly piled dirt. It was so hard to imagine her beautiful sister buried beneath cold dirt, but at least Ruth was in there with her. At least, they were together with Gott, and not alone in the cold earth.
She half-listened to the Bishop of their church express his sorrows for their loss and offer them comforting words. Even if Martha and Ruth were with Gott now, it still didn’t make the cold afternoon feel any less bone-chilling. It still didn’t ease how broken Hannah’s heart felt.
“I’m going to walk home,” Hannah told her parents afterwards. A few miles of silence, not the constant sniffling from her maemm or Sarah, sounded better than listening to the Bishop or prayers. She needed time alone.
“Are you sure?” her daed asked. “It’s quite a walk back to the haus.”
“I’ll be fine,” Hannah said.
John gave a nod before helping her pale-faced maemm into the buggy along with a somber Sarah.
The trek back to the hauswas a chilly one. Along the way, she prayed quietly to herself. Hannah paused in front of the road leading back to her parents’ haus. Going back home meant facing the sad silence that echoed in their haus, something that Hannah couldn’t fathom facing. More than anything, she wanted to hear Wayne’s voice.
Hannah continued down the road to town, but stopped when she heard horse hooves in the road behind her.
“Where are you going?” Attlee asked.
He sat high in the buggy seat with the leather reigns clutched tightly in his hands. By all appearances, Attlee looked put together from his crisp button-up shirt and black trousers. It was the bags underneath his eyes, and the red tinge in his eyes that suggested otherwise. Attlee barely had looked up during Miriam and bobli Ruth’s funeral.
“To town,” Hannah said.
“I’ll give you a ride then,” he replied. “Climb in.”
They trotted steadily in silence before Hannah turned to Attlee with tears in her eyes.
“I know words can’t make it feel better,” she said. “I miss Miriam too. I miss her laugh. I miss everything about her.”
Attlee’s gaze never wavered from the road ahead of them. “They are with Gott now. I’m trying to take comfort in that.”
“I understand. I’m trying to take comfort in it, too.”
They fell back into thick silence. Hannah prayed to find the right words to tell Attlee, to offer him some comfort, but nothing came to mind. They were both under a thick shadow of grief that neither one of them could shake though they took comfort in prayer and their community.
Attlee waited long enough for Hannah to find the spare key for her daed’s store. Once inside, Hannah walked through the dim aisles to the back office. The only time they were permitted to use a phone was for business, but Hannah had written Wayne two days ago, and paid the extra money for her letter to arrive there sooner than normal. His silence was crushing in a way that left Hannah torn between her grief and anger. There was that possibility, though, that he had yet to receive the letter. Her daed would discourage her from using the phone to tell her mann about Miriam’s death, but such news needed to be told right away.
Hannah picked up the phone, dialing Wayne’s store number. It was Wednesday morning, and she knew that he would be there dutifully working on either buggies or something else.
“Wayne’s Wagon Repair,” Wayne said, crisply.
Tears filled Hannah’s eyes at the sound of his voice.
“It’s me,” she said. “It’s Hannah.”
“Hannah? What are you doing using the phone?”
The disapproval was thick in Wayne’s voice, but she didn’t care. Hannah twirled the phone cord around her finger anxiously.
“I know that I’m not supposed to,” she said, voice wavering with emotion, “but I don’t know if you received my letter.”
“I just received it today about your sister’s death. We are praying for your family.”
“Danka,” Hannah said.
The briskness in Wayne’s voice did little to ease the ache in Hannah’s heart. It only deepened it. She longed for her mann to be the way he had once been — full of compassion and empathy. Now, he was just hardened from years of disappointment, and pouring all his heart into work. It left little room for Hannah anymore.
Voices echoed in the background.
“Hannah, I have to go,” Wayne said. “I’m sorry about your loss. I am praying for you and your sister. She is with Gott now.”
He hung up before Hannah could even reply. She sat there for quite a while, watching the shadows of the rainy afternoon dance throughout the office. Tears trailed down her cheeks. A small part of her wasn’t surprised by Wayne’s reaction. He dealt with his emotions privately, and kept them hidden from everyone— including Hannah herself.
She buttoned up her daed’s store before huddling in the jacket against the steady trickle of cold rain. Halfway down the sidewalk, someone hollered out her name over the steady patter of rain.
“Hannah?” Mason called out, jogging up the sidewalk to catch up with her. “What are you doing here in town without a way back home? It’s pouring down rain.”
Mason’s voice trailed off when he realized the wetness on Hannah’s cheeks weren’t from the rain. He offered a small, sympathetic smile.
“I heard about your sister and the baby,” he said. “I’m really sorry for your loss. I can only imagine how hard it is. I don’t know if it’s okay to hug you, but it looks like you need one anyway.”
The cold rain beat down on Hannah’s kapp. A part of her screamed to back away, to tell Mason it would be inappropriate, but when strong and warm arms wrapped about her, all her strength left her. Hannah sank into Mason’s welcoming arms with a shaky sigh, inhaling the woodsy scent that clung to Mason’s soft shirt. She burrowed her head gladly into his shoulder, and sought the comfort that she longed to have.
Chapter Seven
The rain never stopped, it seemed, for the next two weeks. Harvesting the fields in the chilly rain the weekend before the Farmers Market left Hannah in bad spirits. She was glad to be inside the warm haus the following week with her maemm and Sarah as they prepared strawberry jams and baked several pies for the Farmers Market. The topic of Miriam or the bobli never came up. A wordless understanding had passed between them over the following weeks to keep their grief to themselves.
And Hannah knew it was only a matter of time before her maemm brought up the subject of her returning back to Lancaster. It had been Miriam’s idea to have her come visit, but now that Miriam was gone, she didn’t know what her heart desired to do. She prayed long and hard every day for answers and strength from Gott, but nothing ever seemed to be more clear than her wanting to be in Monte Vista with her family.
Wayne would expect her to come home eventually, as well as to pick up on her duties around the house again. The thought of returning back to Lancaster filled her with such dread and darkness that it haunted her sleep at times.
Then, there was Mason. The day he had embraced Hannah after Miriam’s funeral filled her with a torrent of confusing emotions towards him. Everywhere she ventured to in town, he always seemed to find her for a small conversation that she enjoyed. It was a nice distraction
from the grief that randomly struck at times— like walking by Attlee’s haus with the intention to talk with Miriam, but having to remind herself that Miriam was gone.
In a small way, Hannah felt flattered that the tall and handsome English man seemed to desire her presence. Mason had made it a point to talk to her at least once a day whenever Hannah was running errands for her daed while he minded after the store. She couldn’t deny the fluttering in her stomach anytime Mason looked over at her with a smile, but it was only a matter of time before someone in the community saw them walking together every single day.
The Farmers Market was on a cold Saturday morning. While crowds of Englischers browsed through the various tables, Hannah poured two cups of hot apple cider. She slipped away from the bustling street to the hardware store where she found Mason sitting behind the front corner, filling out paperwork.
“I thought you would like some cider,” Hannah said, kindly.
Mason grinned widely. “I’d love some,” he said, taking the cup from her hand. Their fingers brushed lightly, and a jolt of heat went up Hannah’s arm. “How is the Farmers Market going? It seems very busy out there.”
“It is,” Hannah said. “My Ma has sold all of her pies and jams already.”
“I imagine. I’ve had those pies before as a snack. You can eat an entire one without even realizing it.”
“I know,” Hannah said, laughing lightly. “My Ma has a knack for baking. I wish I had the same talents.”
“I’m sure your baking skills are better than mine,” Mason replied, pushing away the paperwork he had been filling out. “I eat frozen dinners every night. That is how bad my cooking skills are.”
The thought of Mason eating frozen dinners at night filled Hannah with empathy. He worked hard throughout the day running the store, a difficult task from what Hannah learned from her own daed, and had little time to come home and prepare a properly cooked meal.
“I’ll bring you a few home-cooked dinners from now on,” Hannah said.
Mason’s eyebrows arched up in surprise. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course,” Hannah said, gently. “You have been a source of great comfort for me for the past few weeks.”
“Your husband isn’t helping you through your sister’s death?”
She looked down to hide her expression, but Mason saw the flash of pain and anger in her eyes. He shook his head in dismay.
“I know that it’s none of my business, but a husband should never be okay with his wife being gone for a long stretch of time like you are. I’m not Amish, but I know you feel it too because of the look in your eye.”
Hannah tugged on an errant string in her apron. They were treading on dangerous water by talking about such personal matters, but after years of not being able to talk about her heartache, it threatened to spill out to Mason.
“And your sister’s death is something that he should be helping you with,” Mason continued on. “I know that grief is personal and quiet within your community, but how you’re being treated isn’t right either.”
“Nee,” Hannah said, softly, “but my mann is gut. He works hard to provide a life for us. He paid for my ticket here to visit my sister.”
“I think you’re here for different reasons, too,” Mason replied. “I can see it in your eyes whenever you look at your family. You want to be here with them.”
More than anything, Hannah thought as she quickly rubbed away the tears in her eyes. Except, she would have to return back to her mann soon. She couldn’t stay in Monte Vista for the rest of her life as much as she wanted to.
“I will have to go back soon,” Hannah said, quietly. “My mann is waiting for me to come home.”
“Is that what you really want to do?”
Hannah looked up at the question to find Mason’s gaze fixated on her. Tension filled the air between them, so thick that even a sharp butcher knife wouldn’t cut it. Hannah’s heart pounded as Mason leant across the counter suddenly, one hand reaching out to touch her cheek gently. The simple touch sent fire raging through Hannah’s veins, and she couldn’t find it in her to pull back.
“Is that what you want?” Mason asked, the timbre in his voice causing shivers to crawl up Hannah’s spine.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”
“You do,” Mason whispered back. “You know what you want to do, but you’re too scared to do it.”
She didn’t get a chance to reply. Warm lips that tasted of apple cider descended upon her own, effectively silencing whatever protests Hannah had.
This is what she wanted for the time being. And she kissed him back.
Chapter Eight
It was a frightening feeling to have while kissing Mason. No matter how many times Hannah told herself over the next few days to never kiss Mason again, to never see him again, she found herself gravitating towards him anyway. Shame and guilt for kissing another man who wasn’t her mann ate at the lining of Hannah’s stomach and heart.
But, Mason had been right.
She didn’t wish to return to Lancaster to an empty haus that felt emptier every month that passed with no sign of a bobli. She didn’t want to look into Wayne’s disappointed eyes whenever he came home late in the evenings.
Church on Sunday morning was at the Holtz’s haus. Hannah sat nestled between her sister and maemm through hymnals, staring down at her folded hands as she listened to her beloved community sing slowly. She prayed for Gott’s forgiveness for what she had done, but also prayed for direction on what to do.
Returning to Lancaster and to her mann was what everyone expected her to do. Wayne expected her to come back home now that Miriam had passed away. But there was a tiny idea blooming in Hannah’s heart that filled her with an array of tormented emotions.
The kiss with Mason had felt entirely too gut to ignore. She had committed a horrible sin according to her church and family, but at the same time, her marriage with Wayne had fallen apart. They had fallen out of love with one another. There was no denying it any longer.
If she allowed herself to fall in love with Mason, it meant being shunned from her church, and from her family. It meant going against the vows she had taken years before. Hannah toyed with an errant string on her apron, her heart heavy with indecision. The thought of losing the rest of her family brought on a tidal wave of heartache.
The last hymnal echoed in the warm and cozy living room. Hannah immediately rose to head in the direction of the front door, but it was Bishop Abraham’s voice that stopped her.
“May I have a word, Hannah?”
She turned to look at Bishop Abraham with a forced smile. “Of course,” she replied, following the older man through the kitchen and out through the back door.
Hannah crossed her arms to fight off the crispness of the morning air.
“How are you holding you up?” Bishop Abraham asked, kindly. “I imagine it has been a hard few weeks for you.”
She lowered her gaze to hide the torment of emotions she felt. “It has been, but Gott has been helping me through prayer.”
“That is gut to hear,” he replied. “Word has reached my ears that you may not be returning to Lancaster.”
Hannah tensed visibly at those words.
“I do not know who spoke of that to you,” she said, tightly, “but I am undecided if I should return to Lancaster.”
“And what of your mann?” Bishop Abraham inquired, seriously. “I imagine he will not be approving of you remaining here when your home is now in Lancaster.”
She was tempted to point out that Wayne barely paid her attention when she was in Lancaster. The sinking feeling in her stomach told Hannah that there was more to this conversation than wondering when she would return to Lancaster.
“Bishop,” Hannah said, “is there something else that you wish to speak to me about?”
Bishop Abraham stared at her grimly for a moment before turning his gaze to the overcast sky. “There have been a few
concerned conversations from your family, and a few other community members as well, about the time you have spent with the English man who owns the hardware store.”
Someone had noticed the frequency of their walks together. And then brought it to Bishop Abraham’s attention.
Hannah swallowed thickly. “He is a gut man who has friendly relations with my family. He has been most comforting about Miriam’s death.”
“Mason is a gut man,” Bishop Abraham agreed, nodding his head. “However, I myself am a bit concerned that you are finding yourself wandering away from Gott, and the vows you had taken years ago.”
She didn’t have a reply to that.
“I only warn you to pray,” he continued on. “There are things that happen in our lives that are a test of our faith, but if you look to Gott he will give you the answers that you are looking for.”
“Gott has been silent to me,” Hannah said, and recoiled instantly after those words. “Perhaps I have not prayed hard enough or sought the answers that I need.”
“He is never silent. We sometimes don’t listen clearly,” Bishop Abraham said, wisely. “I suggest that you return to Lancaster to be with your mann. The longer you stay here, the harder it will be for you to return to Lancaster. Now, if you excuse me, there is some lovely church soup that I smelled in the kitchen.”
He left her to stand beneath the grey clouds. Hannah let out a shaky breath the moment that the Bishop was out of hearing range. Reaching up to wipe at her face with a trembling hand, she walked to the pasture where the Holtz’s cows grazed on the dewy grass.
It wasn’t a surprise that Bishop Abraham spoke with her about Mason, but unnerving nonetheless. The older man took care of their community as though they were all his kinner, and when he felt if one of them were wandering off, he was quick to offer wise advice. Their brief conversation was also a warning sign that she was treading on thin ice with the church if someone had noticed herself and Mason.
More than ever, she needed to pray.
Chapter Nine