“I didn’t know you did that.” Guilt hit her hard again. They’d gone to so much trouble because she hadn’t stood up to her parents.
“To be honest, I think the Lord had a helping hand in our plans, too. At first, I don’t think Rob wanted to see you. Then, he decided to become a firefighter and he wasn’t around anyway.” She smiled, as if this explanation settled everything.
But all it did was make Hannah feel even more confused. “You did all that for me?”
“Of course, dear. We wanted you to be happy.”
She was humbled that her employers would do so much for her. “That’s so kind of you.”
“No, that’s what friends do. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, of course.” She smiled weakly. She had never actually thought about how breaking off things with Rob would affect the Rosses. Her only focus had been to do it to Rob as quickly as possible and regain some semblance of normalcy.
And, of course, ensure that her parents would stop being so upset with her.
That had happened, of course. But almost immediately she’d discovered that being a good and dutiful daughter wasn’t much of a consolation for having a broken heart.
“Melissa, speaking of Rob . . . He came to see me yesterday.”
“He did? What did he say?”
“He came to see how I was doing. He rescued me, you see.”
“Yes, York learned that this morning. One of the nurses in his office was working in the emergency room last night. She told me that her husband had fought the fire with Rob.”
“Did he? Hmm. Now isn’t it such a small world?”
“It certainly is.” Melissa smiled softly. “Or maybe it’s just Charm, Ohio, that’s so very small.”
“Anyway, I have been thinking lately that I made a mistake with him.”
Melissa leaned forward. “You really think so?”
“I do. I let my fears about moving forward overrule my heart. It was wrong.” She exhaled. “Rob might never forgive me, but I’m going to tell him that.”
“Hmm. Does this mean you might not need to be shielded from Rob Prince after all?”
Melissa’s voice had turned lighter. It matched the new gleam in her eyes. Which was starting to make Hannah a little worried.
“I think so,” Hannah replied softly. “I’m not sure what is going to happen, but I do know that it’s time to stop worrying so much about guarding my heart. It will be better when everything is out in the open.”
“Honesty really is the best policy—at least I’ve always thought so.”
“Jah.”
Melissa picked up the pink robe again and ran a hand over the soft fabric. “Just think, now, why, anything could happen.”
“Anything?” It was as if her boss were speaking in code.
“Yes. I mean, it is Christmas. That’s a time for miracles, don’t you think?”
“I do.” After all, hadn’t God just saved her and Daisy from a terrible fire?
“But don’t you worry,” Melissa continued. “I’m sure everything will turn out for the best. I mean, I guess we’ll soon find out.”
Hannah narrowed her eyes. Was almost tempted to question if Melissa knew something that she wasn’t sharing but then decided against asking.
There was a very good chance that Melissa did know something else about Hannah’s situation with Rob that she wasn’t sharing.
But maybe that was just as well. After all, she’d been keeping plenty of secrets of her own lately.
Maybe they all had.
Chapter 5
“Sorry I didn’t call you earlier, Mom,” Rob said as he drove home from the firehouse. “Things have been a little crazy around here today. How has your birthday been?”
“So far so good. But then, it is only three o’clock.”
He grinned as he waited at the light. Comments like that were vintage Mom. His mother was a pretty positive person, but she always acted as if she weren’t. She’d say something positive but always pointed out what could go wrong. He and his sister had learned when they were around twelve or so that she’d done it because her father, their grandfather, was a perpetually half-empty guy. He’d always been sure that something was going to go wrong, so she and her sister had amused themselves by repeating some of his most common phrases.
Rob played along. “You know, you’re exactly right. Dad could always burn dinner.”
“That’s true, but we’re going out tonight.” She chuckled. “’Course, they might be out of chicken parmigiana at Madison’s. That would be a real shame.”
“Maybe Dad already called to make sure they saved a serving for you.”
“I bet he did, dear.” Her voice warmed. “You know what? I can’t even pretend to look at the bad side of things right now. It’s actually been a great day. Your sister, Susan, stopped by this morning on her way to work and brought me a hazelnut latte and some of my girlfriends brought me lunch.”
“That was nice of them.” When his mom reached forty-seven, she’d developed some reflex problems that hindered her enough to stop her from driving. Rob knew losing that independence had been difficult for his usually independent mother. The best gift anyone could give her was either take her out of the house or bring her some of her favorite things.
“It really was.”
Her voice sounded a bit wistful. Guilt hit him hard. He usually didn’t regret his decision to move away from home—except for times like this, when he was helpless to make his mother’s life easier. “And you’re going to Madison’s for dinner? You’re gonna be eating well today.”
“I really am. Now that you’ve called, I don’t think even no chicken parmesan can spoil my forty-ninth birthday.”
His phone call sounded pretty lame compared to all the other special things she was receiving. “I’m sorry I’m not there.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, Rob. You know I love to hear from you and there’s not a thing to be sad about when it comes to my situation. It is what it is.” She blew out a breath of air. “Now, tell me about your shift. Did you fight a fire?”
She asked that every time, and as with her Sad Sack jokes, she always seemed disappointed when he didn’t fight a fire even though she was actually scared when he did. “I did.”
“And? Are you okay?”
“Yes, Mom.” He’d learned to accept that she was always going to ask about him before the victims.
But maybe that was a mother’s prerogative.
“You sure? You wouldn’t lie to me about that, would you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good. Now, what about the victims? Or was it an empty building?”
“It was a small apartment fire, with a girl and her dog inside.”
“Oh no! What happened? Are they all right?”
“Yeah.” Still not in any hurry to say whose apartment it was, he added, “It was a little dicey at first. The dog was scared and growling at the door. Captain, of course, was not happy.”
“So?”
“So I went in and calmed the dog down. Jerry got the woman. She had some smoke inhalation and minor burns and a sprained ankle, too, so they kept her overnight in the hospital. But she’s going to be all right.”
“Thank the Lord for that.” After a pause, she said, “What happened to the dog?”
“I took her home.”
“Rob! You’re turning into a full-service fireman, aren’t you?”
He chuckled. “I like that descriptor. I’ll share it with the cap.”
“Not that I’m not proud of you, but was that the best decision about the dog?”
“I don’t know if it was the right choice or not. But I don’t regret it. She’s a sweet boxer.”
“It’s a boxer? Goodness. You’re lucky it was a nice dog. They can be protective.”
He paused, then figured he might as well share the whole story. “It actually wasn’t a stranger, Mom. It was Hannah.”
“Who?”
“Hannah. Hannah Eicher.”
“The Amish girl?” Her voice had risen. And no, she wasn’t happy about this news, not even a little bit.
“Yeah.”
“Well.” She paused again. “Hmm. I bet that was quite a surprise.”
He was pretty impressed that his mother didn’t finish the other half of what was no doubt forming in her head—that it was Hannah Eicher the Amish girl who broke your heart.
“It was.”
“What did she say when you arrived? I hope she looked guilty at the very least.”
“She was passed out when we got to her, so she didn’t even know I was there.”
“That’s probably for the best.”
“Wow, Mom, that’s pretty cold.”
“Oh, I know. And I’m trying to feel bad about saying such a thing, too,” she muttered, signaling that she didn’t feel guilty about her judgmental words. Not one bit. “However, Hannah is okay now, right?”
“Yes. She’s in the hospital.”
“She’s recuperating in the hospital? Oh my. Well, now I do feel bad for being so harsh.” She paused. “I’ll say a prayer for her and ask God to give me the strength to think warm and comforting thoughts.”
“I hope you mean that.”
“Of course I mean that. I wouldn’t fib about the Lord and prayers, Rob.”
His mother was a firecracker. Five feet six inches of attitude. “Anyway, that’s why I took the dog. I knew her owner.”
“I hope Hannah thanks you when she stops by to get it. Then that will be the end of that.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Maybe not? Oh, Rob. Not to sound mean, but what could the two of you possibly have to say to each other?”
The smart thing to do would be to give a noncommittal reply and move the conversation on. That’s what Susan would do.
But it seemed he was a glutton for punishment. “Actually, Mom . . . it turned out that she acted a lot different than I had thought she would this morning.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What did she have to say for herself?”
He could practically see her leaning back in her favorite chair in the living room and rubbing her temples in exasperation. “Hannah seemed happy to see me. Almost like she feels bad about what happened.” Actually, if he’d been a betting man, he would have said that she was trying to get up the nerve to tell him something more.
“Really? I’m shocked.”
“I was, too. I didn’t expect her to be so friendly.”
“Why would you? She’s had almost a year to make things better.”
“I would agree with you except that something didn’t seem quite right about her explanation when she broke up with me. Mom, you know what? I’m starting to think maybe there was more to that story than her simply trying to end things.”
“What could there have possibly been? She was lucky to have you. Not every man like you would be interested in an Amish girl.”
“She wasn’t just an Amish girl. She was Hannah. And you met her, so you know what I’m talking about.”
“Fine. She was sweet and pretty.”
She was those things. But there was something more, too. It had been the way she cared for the Rosses’ baby. The way she never complained about losing her boyfriend or walking a long distance to get home or even being all alone most every day.
It had been the way she’d stood up for herself against that guy who’d been so angry about his father’s death—and the way she’d been willing to defy all of her friends’ and family’s questions and concerns when she’d started spending time with him.
It had been the way she’d made him feel worthy and smart, even though all he did was write books.
“It might surprise you to find out that not everyone thinks I’m a good catch.”
“It might surprise you to discover that a lot of women think you are, Son. Me most of all.”
Even though he had a feeling he was blushing, he smiled. “Thanks, Mom. Listen, I need to go. Have a good rest of your day.”
“I will. Thanks for calling.”
“I’m sorry I brought you down.”
“You did no such thing, Rob. If you want to know the truth, it might have even been a good thing you told me all this. I was starting to feel a little sorry for myself. Now you’ve given me something new to think about.”
He frowned. If she was feeling sorry for herself, she must have gotten some news from the doctor. That seemed to be the only thing that gave her the blues. “I’m glad I could help. Tell Dad I’ll call him soon, and of course I’ll call you both on Christmas Day.”
“I’ll tell Dad. Now, stop worrying about us and get some sleep, Son.”
As if on cue, he yawned. “I will. Happy birthday again. Love you.”
“Love you back. Good-bye, honey, and thanks for the call.”
“Anytime, Mom.” After he disconnected, he sat in his vehicle another minute longer, thinking about his mom. Wondering what news she’d gotten. Thinking about Hannah and her injuries and her dog.
He wondered again why God had brought her back into his life. There had to be a reason—he just hoped he would be prepared for what it was.
Chapter 6
“You don’t seem very happy about this dress,” Hannah’s sister, Malinda, chided as she helped Hannah slip on one of her dresses. “It’s my best one, too.”
“I’ll try not to ruin it,” she said sarcastically. “I’ll give it back as soon as I make some new clothes.”
Malinda scowled. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. Of course I’m giving it to you.”
“And I appreciate this gift. I do.”
“Hannah, what I’m trying to say is that most girls would be happy to see their sister after almost dying. I know I’m mighty happy to see you.”
“I’m happy to see you. Of course I am.”
“Are you sure about that? Because all you’ve been doing since I got here is looking off in the distance or at the clock.”
Her sister had a point. She had been staring at the large silver clock on the wall and silently begging for its hands to move faster. “I’m sorry. I’m just out of sorts.” Moving her arm a bit, Hannah added, “I think I’m feeling the effects of the fire today more than yesterday.”
Malinda frowned. “I’m sorry. I should have realized that.” “How could you have known?” When she noticed Malinda making a move to adjust her dress, Hannah held up a hand. “Now don’t you worry. I’ll be fine.” And she would, as soon as she got out of the confining hospital room.
She hurt everywhere; she wanted a cool bath to get rid of the last of the smoke smell that seemed to have embedded itself in every pore of her body. And . . . her sister was right. She had nothing except a dog—and Daisy was being kept by her ex-boyfriend.
What in the world was she going to do?
Pulling out a straight pin, she began to carefully fasten the dress together, then unfolded an apron, awkwardly slipped it over her head and attempted to pin it in place as well. It was difficult, though—taking her almost two minutes when it usually only took seconds.
Malinda sighed. “Stop, and let me help you.”
“Danke.” Glad to have someone negotiate the fabric and the fastening, Hannah carefully turned, bent, and twisted as Malinda directed until she was finally dressed in her sister’s best dress—a lovely long-sleeved garment made out of soft forest green fabric.
“When did you get this pretty thing? I don’t remember.”
“I made it almost a year ago for Jenna’s wedding. I was one of her servers.”
Try as she might, she couldn’t remember a thing about that. “Are you sure? I don’t recall that wedding.” And since they knew all the same people, Hannah knew she would have remembered going to the wedding, at the very least.
Malinda glanced up at her from the black-soled boots she was unlacing. “You didn’t go, Hannah. Jenna’s wedding was just a few months after the fire. You were still mourning Paul.”
She remembered
that now. It had been four or five months after the fire at the Kinsinger mill, where five men died, one of whom was her Paul. For months afterward, she’d gone through the motions of each day, trying to come to grips with the fact that Paul was gone forever . . . and that the life she’d imagined happening was gone, too. They’d planned to get married right around the same time as Jenna had.
“Well, the dress is mighty pretty, and it will be warm, too. Thank you for lending it to me.”
“It’s a gift, silly.” Holding up a pretty floral tote bag, Malinda added, “Mamm put another dress inside. We ran to the store and picked up some warm tights and underthings as well. And Daed bought you the new boots from Red Wing.”
The boots were finely crafted and not inexpensive. The boots, combined with the gifts—and the awful way she’d shut out her parents—made her feel small. “All of you went to a lot of expense and trouble for me.”
Malinda nodded. “We did, but it was probably a real gut activity for us, too.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Mamm and Daed needed something to keep them busy.”
Because they were worried about her almost dying in the fire. Because she’d very firmly told them that she wasn’t ever moving back home. “Are you mad at me, too?”
Malinda raised her eyebrows. “Me? Oh, nee. If you moved back, we would have had to share a room.”
“That’s what you’re thinking about?” Boy, leave it to her sister to focus on how Hannah’s housing crisis affected her!
“Calvin is so difficult right now, he needs to have his own room. Maybe even his own floor.”
Calvin was seventeen and disagreeable. Hannah smiled at Malinda. “It’s Mamm’s and Daed’s fault, you know. He’s spoiled.”
“Of course he is. He’s the only son and our parents act as if being a boy was something miraculous.” She grunted. “Not to hear him, though. If you listen to his complaints, you would think he was living in one of the downstairs closets. He’s always moaning about how difficult and hard his life is at home.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Jah. It is so difficult having every whim catered to.”
Malinda smiled. “I can hardly go be ten minutes in his presence before I get annoyed with all of his complaints. Tell me the truth—was I that bad?”
An Amish Second Christmas Page 3
