Hannah's Joy

by Marta Perry

  “No. Well, you see that sometimes with people who’ve spent their entire careers in the military. Not often, maybe, but it happens. They’re used to a world where there’s only one right way to do things.”

  “Maybe so,” Hannah said slowly, trying to adjust her view of Robert. “I have to admit, I don’t understand him. Travis . . .” She let that trail off, not sure she wanted to talk about Travis.

  “Are you afraid Travis would have turned out like his father?” Nancy said, her voice gentle.

  “No, no. In fact, he was determined not to be like his dad. Travis was proud of his service, of course, but he wasn’t going to re-up. He’d decided that when we found out I was pregnant.” She smiled, remembering his joy, and his immediate response. “He said he didn’t want his child to grow up with an absentee father, the way he had. He said the cost was too great.”

  She stopped, the words echoing in her mind. That was very nearly the threat Robert had leveled at her.

  “What is it?” Nancy was quick to read the change in Hannah’s feelings.

  “Nothing.” She rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled. “It’s just—that was what Robert said to me. That if I stayed, the cost might be too high.”

  Nancy patted her hand. “I wouldn’t let him intimidate you. Robert doesn’t understand Plain people, and what he doesn’t understand threatens him.”

  “You’re Englisch, and you don’t feel that way, do you?”

  “I’ve lived around Plain people all my life,” Nancy said. “Pleasant Valley was my home, and that’s why we retired here. There’s not much I don’t understand. And admire, for that matter. It’s different for someone like Robert, who has never been exposed to it.”

  “I tried to explain our beliefs about nonviolence, but I obviously failed.” Hannah looked at Nancy hopefully. “Maybe if you talked to him, he’d listen.”

  “I’ll be glad to do what I can, but I’m not sure he’ll hear me. He said something to my husband about you taking his grandson into a cult, if you can believe that. Phil tried to explain, but . . .” She shrugged her shoulders. “You can see it didn’t do much good.”

  No, it hadn’t. “Well, please thank him for trying. And thank you. Whatever you can do, I’ll appreciate.”

  “That’s all right, my dear.” Nancy patted her hand. “I know it’s worrisome, but when it comes right down to it, you’re doing the best you can for that little boy. If your father-in-law doesn’t approve—well, in-laws don’t, sometimes.” She paused. “I guess the only thing to ask yourself is whether you’re sure. After all, you’ve lived in the outside world for a long time.”

  “I was Plain for nine years. That’s a good big chunk of my life.” She tried to think how best to explain what she hadn’t really articulated to anyone else. “When we moved away, I was devastated. I didn’t understand what was happening to us. I adjusted, eventually. Accepted. But there was always a hole in me.” She put her hand on her chest. She could almost feel the remembered pain. “When I came back here, I didn’t really intend it to be for good. But I began to see that my faith had always been there, underneath. This is my place.”

  “Then listen to your heart, and you’ll be all right.”

  The words, coming from Nancy and echoing what Rachel had said, gave Hannah comfort. Still, there was that edge of fear. “I wish Robert could understand that as well as you do.”

  “I do, too, my dear. But if he refuses, well, there’s still nothing he can do about it. I feel sure he’ll come around in time. You just have to stand your ground.”

  Hannah nodded, hoping Nancy was right. Unfortunately, she knew that standing her ground was not one of her gifts.

  * * *

  William had a feeling something was going on that he didn’t know about around the supper table that evening. His married sister, Emma, and her husband, John Eicher, were there. Not that it was so unusual to see them. With their children grown now, they often came over for a meal.

  Isaac and Emma had been the two oldest of the family, the ones who’d taken over when Mamm and Daad were both doing poorly at the same time. William and Ezra, being a good bit younger, had generally been left out of any decisions to be made.

  William scooped up the last bite of Ruth’s excellent apple crumb pie. One thing about having Emma and John here—it put Ruth on her mettle to produce the finest meal possible, even though she’d never have admitted to any competitive feelings.

  But tonight . . . well, he wasn’t sure why he felt uneasy. Isaac and Emma were doing most of the talking, as they usually did. His earliest memories were of the two of them fighting, but then instantly supporting each other if anyone else criticized.

  Ruth moved back and forth between stove and table, making sure everyone had plenty, her mind clearly focused on the meal to the exclusion of everything else. And John, aside from a few comments about the fall harvest and the quality of the pumpkins he was raising, concentrated on eating. But each time his gaze met William’s, he looked quickly away.

  Isaac and Ruth’s three teenage boys were their usual selves, eating heartily and teasing each other about what girls they’d see at the singing on Sunday night.

  John had barely taken the last bite of his pie when Isaac collected everyone’s attention and bowed his head for the prayer after meals. When the silent prayer had ended, he glanced at his sons.

  “You get on with the evening chores now. It’s getting late.”

  It wasn’t, but no one argued. They rose quickly, and William started to go with them.

  Isaac gestured to him. “Sit down, William. Stay. We can talk a bit now with those boys out of here.”

  “Would anyone like some more pie?” Ruth poised her knife above the pastry. “John? I’m sure you can manage another piece.”

  “Ach, not a whole piece, that’s for sure. Maybe chust a sliver, ja?”

  Nodding, Ruth cut the pie and flipped it deftly onto John’s plate. Catching her husband’s eye, she seemed to flush. She slid back onto her chair.

  Isaac cleared his throat, as if he was about to say something of importance. He looked around the table, making sure everyone was looking at him.

  “William, it is time we talked to you seriously. We are all agreed on that.”

  Emma nodded. Ruth looked down at her lap in what might be considered a nod. John made a movement of his heavy shoulders that seemed to indicate he’d rather be somewhere else.

  William’s stomach tightened. Isaac seemed to be waiting for a response from him.

  “J-ja?” William made it a question, but he didn’t doubt he knew what Isaac wanted to talk about.

  “Stories are going around,” Isaac said. “Stories about you and that Englisch woman, Paula’s niece.”

  William fought to control his temper. “N-not Englisch. H-Hannah is M-Mennonite.”

  “Well, that’s as may be. Just because she’s dressing Plain, that doesn’t mean she’s living Plain. Or that she’ll stay.”

  William couldn’t help glaring at his brother. “Are y-you the j-judge of th-that?”

  Isaac dismissed his question with a gesture. “It is not what I say. It is what everyone says. People know that her father-in-law is here. That he has been trying to make her leave. That he has been asking questions about you.”

  John put his fork on his plate. “William cannot control what that man says.” At a look from his wife, he shrugged. “It is true.”

  “That is not the point,” Isaac said firmly. “The point is that William has been linked by talk to this woman . . . to Hannah,” he corrected himself. “I am not saying that she is not a gut woman, William. I am saying that I don’t want my brother the subject of gossip.”

  “I-I have d-done n-n-nothing against the Ordnung.” Nothing but fall in love with a woman who probably didn’t love him. He wasn’t in danger of having p
eople talk about him. He was in danger of having his heart broken.

  “Sometimes just the appearance of wrongdoing is enough,” Emma said tartly. “You should do nothing that would embarrass your family.”

  He was not going to be cowed by his older siblings. He frowned back at Emma. “I h-have d-done nothing. H-Hannah has d-done nothing. She i-is a g-gut p-person. I d-did not think you w-were a b-blabber-m-maul, E-Emma.”

  Emma looked surprised, either at his attack or at his stringing so many words together.

  “This isn’t about whether or not Emma is repeating gossip,” Isaac said.

  Emma switched her glare to Isaac. “I am not a blabbermaul.”

  “Ach, we are getting off track.” Isaac’s face had reddened. “William, we are your family. We have a right to know. Are you involved with Hannah or not?”

  He might argue that Isaac didn’t have the right to ask that, but it would just prolong this discussion. If he could not protect Hannah in any other way, he could at least do this.

  “W-we are f-friends. Th-that’s all.”

  Isaac’s tension visibly eased. “Gut. That’s gut.”

  “We are not saying there’s anything wrong with her,” Emma put in, ready to be conciliatory now that they’d had the answer they wanted from him. “It’s wonderful brave of Hannah to come here with her little boy, starting over like that. But she is not for you, William.”

  “No, she’s not.” Isaac didn’t seem to relish having Emma take over. “However gut a person, Hannah is not of our faith. She is a widow, and of a soldier, besides. She is older. She has a child. It is all unsuitable. Everyone in the family agrees.”

  That shook William. They’d all been talking about him. His control began to slip.

  “E-everyone?”

  Isaac looked surprised. “Everyone, ja. Even Caleb. What is wrong? You said there was nothing between you but friendship.”

  “There i-i-isn’t.” He stood, the chair scraping back. “Y-you d-d-didn’t ask i-if I w-wanted there t-to be.”

  Isaac stood as well, his ruddiness deepening. “This is foolishness. I am telling you—”

  William started toward the door. “J-ja. Y-you h-have s-said. I-I h-heard.” He stalked out the door and closed it firmly behind him.

  It would be satisfying to follow that declaration by going to Hannah and telling her his feelings, but he wasn’t that foolish. Hannah liked him, maybe was even attracted to him. But that didn’t mean she’d welcome hearing that he loved her, and telling her could put an end to their friendship.

  Still, he’d finally made his feelings known to his brother. He suspected he owed Hannah for that. Let Isaac make of that what he would. He had heard enough advice for one day.

  Or maybe not quite enough. If Caleb was against him, too . . . well, he had to find out.

  He tried not to think at all during the drive to town. Caleb had said he was having supper next door with Katie and Rhoda at Katie’s apartment. He should still be there.

  The route to the quilt shop led past the bakery. William couldn’t help glancing at the windows on the second floor. Lights were on in the living room, and the longing to stop was like an ache in his chest.

  Halting the mare at the hitching rail behind Katie’s and Caleb’s shops, William jumped down from the buggy. He had to know.

  He leaned on the doorbell at the back door, wondering what he’d say if Katie or Rhoda came to answer. But it was Caleb who came down the stairs and opened the door.

  “William?” Surprise widened his eyes. “Was ist letz? Has something happened?”

  “We h-have to t-talk.” Only after he’d said it did he realize that it was the same thing Isaac had said to him.

  “Ja, sure, komm up. I bet there’s some cake left.” He grinned. “Rhoda baked it, but it’s gut.”

  He shook his head. “This w-won’t take long.” It was as if something inside him pushed him forward with his need to know. “Isaac a-and Emma d-decided to lecture me at s-supper. About Hannah.”

  “I’m sorry.” Caleb stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him as if to give them privacy. “That was foolish of them.”

  Foolish, not wrong. Wrong was what he’d wanted to hear.

  “They w-want me to stay away f-from Hannah.” That was what it had amounted to, no matter how they tried to dress it up.

  “I’m sorry,” Caleb said again. “I know Isaac means well, but he doesn’t often see other people’s point of view.”

  “Ja.” It struck him suddenly. “Like Hannah’s f-father-in-law.”

  Caleb seemed surprised, but then he nodded. “You are right. Both of them think they know what’s best for other people. They don’t see the harm they are doing.”

  William was comforted that Caleb saw the truth, but there was another question he had to ask.

  “Isaac s-said that the f-family agreed with him. All th-the family. Including you.”

  Caleb hesitated for a long moment. William’s heart sank. He’d thought Caleb was one person he could depend upon.

  “You, t-too, then.” His voice was tight.

  “I didn’t talk to Isaac about you,” Caleb said quickly. He put his hand on William’s shoulder. “Believe me on that. Isaac tried, but I told him what you did was nobody’s business but your own. But . . .”

  “But what? Y-you agree w-with him?”

  “No. But I am worried about you.” His grip tightened. “I like Hannah. You know that. But there are problems involved in loving her. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

  William took a long breath. So. It seemed he was on his own. Well, maybe that was for the best.

  He took a step away, and Caleb’s hand fell from his shoulder.

  “Y-you are right,” he said. “It is n-nobody’s b-business but mine.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Kneading bread dough was a good outlet for the frustration Hannah was feeling. She could twist and pummel the dough all she wanted, letting the worry work itself out. Even the unbaked dough had an aroma of its own, which seemed to release as she worked the dough.

  She glanced at Aunt Paula, wondering if she noticed her aggression and guessed at the cause. But her aunt was bent over the rye loaf she was shaping, her face serene, her hands strong and skilled.

  “I will never be as fast as you are with the bread.” Hannah plopped the dough into the earthenware bowl, turning it so that all sides were greased. “You are miles ahead of me.”

  “I have been doing this for thirty or forty years, don’t forget.” Her aunt gave the finished loaf a satisfied pat. “It’s gut, working with the dough. Satisfying, ja?”

  So she had noticed. “Ja, it is. I wish . . .”

  The phone rang upstairs. Surely not loud enough to wake Jamie, was it? She headed for the steps. “I’ll get it.”

  She ran lightly up the stairs, crossed the room, and snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Hannah, is that you? You don’t sound like yourself.” Megan didn’t sound like herself, either. Her voice was tentative, almost timid, as if she feared Hannah’s reaction.

  “I just ran up the stairs. I’m out of breath.” She pressed the receiver against her ear, waiting. Megan would have to go first. Neither of them could pretend she’d just called to chat.

  “We . . . haven’t talked lately. I just wanted to ask how you’re doing.”

  All of Hannah’s worry came surging to the fore. “How do you think I’m doing? Thanks to you, my father-in-law has been here for a week.”

  “Well, he does have a right to get to know his grandson, doesn’t he?” Defensiveness slid through the words.

  “He does, but that’s not what he’s been doing. He’s been snooping and prying and making my life miserable.”

  Thanks to you, she thought bu
t didn’t say. Forgiveness was a basic tenet of her faith, but at the moment, it was the one she had the most trouble with.

  “What? Why would he be doing that? I told him . . .”

  “You told him that I was planning to raise his grandson in some kind of cult. What did you think was going to happen when you did that, Megan?” For someone who cringed from confrontation, she seemed to be doing surprisingly well when her son’s future was at stake. “Robert is trying to force me to move away from here. He wants me to give up my family, my home, and my faith because they don’t suit his ideas.”

  “Hannah, I never expected that.” Megan rushed into speech. “I thought that if he knew, maybe he’d come through with some financial support that would let you live independently. That’s all I wanted. You have to believe that.”

  The pain in Megan’s voice sounded real enough. Hannah’s anger began to seep away. That was Megan, after all. She’d act before she thought, and then try to clean up afterward. But this was more serious than her usual misunderstandings.

  “Hannah? Please say you forgive me. Tell me what I can do to help.”

  Hannah rubbed the back of her neck, where tension had started to build. “There’s nothing you can do. It’s too late for that. I forgive you.” Saying it was the first step toward making it so, wasn’t it?

  “There must be something I can do. Maybe if I talked to Conroy, I could convince him that I was mistaken.”

  “It’s too late for that,” she repeated, knowing it was true. “I thought surely he’d see what a good life this is for Jamie, surrounded by people who love him, able to be with me all the time instead of shipped off to day care. But he refuses to understand. This life isn’t his idea of normal, and that’s all he can see.”

  “I’m so sorry, Hannah. I’d give anything if I could take it back. Honestly. I love you and Jamie. I don’t want to make you unhappy. I just thought . . .”

  “You thought you knew what was best,” Hannah finished for her.

  “I’m sorry.” Megan’s voice was very small. “If you think of anything I can do that might help, just tell me. Anything.”