by Amy Lillard
Gracie poured a can of corn in with the tomatoes before answering. “You don’t know.” She stirred the contents of the pot, tapped the spoon against the rim, and shook her head. “It was so sad.”
“What was so sad?”
“Lizzie got sick when Essie was a baby. Cancer.” She tsked. “She fought it for as long as she could.”
“I had no idea.”
Gracie gave a quick shrug. “It’s not something we talk about. Are you about done with those potatoes?”
Hannah sat back and gestured toward all the potatoes she had peeled. “How many of those do you need?”
“All of them.”
“That many?”
“We only cook twice a week. So we’ve got a few meals to make.”
“I guess so.”
Gracie rinsed the potatoes and began dicing them into the pot. She was so quick and efficient it almost made Hannah’s head swim. Why hadn’t some smart man snapped her up?
Her cousin wasn’t exactly an old maid, but with each year that passed, her chances of getting married decreased.
“Why haven’t you ever married?” Hannah hadn’t planned on actually asking the question, but there it was all the same.
She shrugged. “I guess it’s just not in God’s plan for me.”
But Gracie would make someone a terrific wife. She was amicable and accommodating. Any man would be lucky to have her care for him.
Or Gracie would be so compliant that she’d be swallowed up by the man she married.
Hannah shook the thought away. Everyone deserved the chance to be happy.
Sure Gracie seemed happy enough, but Hannah couldn’t imagine her not wanting more. Or maybe that was just her projecting her own dreams onto another.
* * *
Hannah and Gracie chopped salad, sliced the bread that Mamm had sent over, and made a pot of soup, a chicken and noodle casserole, and a pork loin with potatoes and carrots.
Then they got into the buggy and started for home.
Hannah had to admit that she was a little disappointed that she hadn’t seen Aaron at all. The mere thought was ridiculous. She had just seen him that very morning.
“I invited Aaron to supper tomorrow night.”
Gracie half turned in her seat. “You did?”
“I—” Hannah shook her head. “It’s been such a long time, you know. I thought that would give us a chance to catch up.”
“Catch up.” Gracie’s eyes were hooded, hiding the meaning behind her words.
“What?”
“I need to ask you something.”
“Okay.” Why did the statement sound like the world was coming to an end?
“Will you answer me?”
“Not until I know what it is.”
Gracie nodded. “Fair enough.” She sucked in a deep breath before continuing. “Are you staying?”
“Staying? Like in Pontotoc?” Hannah frowned.
“Jah. You’ve come back, and you’re living with the family again, but you are still dressing Englisch. Are you planning on staying? Joining the church, becoming Amish once more?”
Hannah opened her mouth to answer, but Gracie cut her off. “And don’t lie. Tell me that you don’t want to answer, but please don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t know.” It was the closest to the truth she could come. She had arrived in Pontotoc planning to stay only as long as necessary. But now that she had been there for a few days, home was starting to grow on her.
Or it could just be the idea of home that was so appealing.
Whatever it was, she was enjoying being away from the hustle and bustle.
“You don’t know?” Gracie asked.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Abner thinks you will.”
Hannah looked out the window, not daring to meet her cousin’s gaze. “How do you know this? He has hardly spoken to me since I got back.”
“He’s adjusting. Give him a little more time, and he’ll come around.”
Hannah hated that her cousin knew her father better than Hannah herself did. But she only had herself to blame.
“Don’t hurt him,” Gracie pleaded.
“Dat?”
“Aaron.”
“Why is everyone so protective of Aaron Zook?” She hadn’t meant to snap the words, but her head was spinning from the shift in the conversation.
“He’s a good man,” Gracie said. “He deserves a happy life.”
Didn’t they all?
“What do you think I’m going to do?”
Gracie gave a quick shrug and turned the buggy onto the lane that led to the Gingeriches’ farm. “I don’t think you would hurt him on purpose.”
“But—”
“If you invite him to eat and try to be friends, and then you leave again . . .” She shook her head sadly. “No one wants that.”
“No,” Hannah murmured, not knowing what else she could say. It seemed all her family believed that her leaving had been an easy task. They had made up their minds about that years ago, and nothing she could say now would change anything. But if they only knew . . .
Gracie pulled the buggy to a stop and faced Hannah. “I’ve never left, never even been farther than Tennessee, so I can only imagine what that’s like. But when a person leaves, they forget how hard it is on those left behind.”
* * *
Brandon sat in the shade of the large oak that stood between his grandmother’s house and the one belonging to his uncle Jim. As he watched, a buggy pulled to a stop. His mother and Gracie piled out. Gracie was nice enough, his second cousin or something like that. He couldn’t really remember the exact relationship. But she was always smiling and always working. In fact, he had never seen anyone work like her in his entire life.
Gracie headed into the house as his mother unhitched the horse and released the mare into the pasture. That was new. He didn’t know she could do that. Well, not that unhitching a horse was all that hard. At least, it didn’t look so difficult. But he didn’t realize she’d had enough experience with horses that she would bravely grab one by the harness and lead it to the pasture.
Across from him a screen door slammed and one of Joshua’s siblings stepped out onto the porch. It was a boy, maybe seven or eight, with straight blond hair that hung past his ears.
A dog started barking as a car approached. That was one thing he liked about where his grandparents lived. All the houses were clustered together. It was like a compound or something and made him feel like he was a Kennedy, only poorer.
The car pulled to a stop and a man got out. He adjusted his pants and glanced around as if he wasn’t sure he was in the right place.
That makes two of us, buddy.
His grandfather must have heard the new arrival. He came ambling out of the work shed, sawdust trailing behind him like smoke. The men talked for a moment, but from where he sat Brandon couldn’t make out a single word. Not that he’d heard his grandfather much. The man had barely uttered two words to him since he and Mom had arrived.
“What are you doing out here?”
Brandon jumped and shaded his eyes as he looked to see who had spoken. “Joshua.”
“Did I scare you?”
“Nah, I was just thinking.”
“Jah. Right.” Joshua plopped down onto the ground next to him. “What? Are you out here spying on people?”
“No,” Brandon retorted, but it was far from the truth. Watching, spying, it was all in how a person looked at it. Brandon was merely curious. And bored. Very, very bored.
“Want to throw a baseball around?”
Brandon jerked his attention to his cousin. “What?”
“Baseball,” Joshua said slowly. “Do you want to throw one with me?”
“Like real baseball?”
“Official MLB.”
Brandon shook his head. What did his cousin know about Major League Baseball? But his doubts evaporated when Joshua produced a well-worn baseball and a glove.
�
��You got another one of those?” he asked with a nod toward the glove.
“I’m sure I can find you one. Are you up for it?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” He tried to play it cool, though he was certain the gesture was lost on Joshua. Brandon was up for anything at this point. Though he had always wanted to play ball. He had been on a couple of teams when he was little, those teams where everyone played and everyone got a trophy no matter how lousy they were. But it was soon apparent that his friends were better ball players than he was and that without a little help he would never get any good. But his dad was always too busy to help, and he’d turned to video game baseball instead.
“C’mon.” Joshua hooked one hand over his shoulder and motioned for Brandon to follow. Then Joshua disappeared into the storage shed behind the main barn. He stepped back into the sunlight minutes later, triumphantly holding a glove over his head. “I think this one belongs to Libby, my sister.”
Brandon was momentarily shamed that a girl had a better glove than he did, but the feeling quickly passed, giving way to excitement over something to do.
“You ever play before?” Joshua asked.
Brandon shook his head. “Not in a long time,” he said as he slipped his hand into the glove.
Joshua grinned, obviously enjoying his role as the older, more experienced cousin. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
There was something comforting about the solid feel of the baseball when it hit the pocket of his glove. The sound, the sting, it was real. Even the smell seemed to transport him to another place. And he couldn’t help but wonder what his life would have been like had his father liked him.
Oh, he knew the man had loved him, but he hadn’t liked him all that much, he was certain. But if he had . . . maybe Brandon would have played ball, or golf, or soccer. Maybe they would have gone on fishing trips and camping trips, done Boy Scouts and all the other things his friends had done with their dads.
His dad always said that he was too busy. But no one was that busy. Not even Johnny Carlisle’s dad, who was a big executive with one of the country music record labels. If he could make a game or two a season, there was no reason why Brandon’s dad couldn’t. But he hadn’t. Not even once.
“Brandon?”
“Huh?” He shifted his attention back to his cousin. “What?”
“You weren’t paying attention.”
He had been. Sort of. “Who’s that guy?” He pointed toward the man coming out of the work shed. He was dressed in regular clothes, non-Amish clothes. English, he thought the Amish called them, though he wasn’t sure why.
“I dunno. Probably came to look at sheds or something. He doesn’t look like a gawker.”
“A what-er?” He checked his cousin’s face just to make sure he was being serious.
“A gawker. You know, one who gawks.”
Brandon looked back to the man. He shook hands with Brandon’s grandfather and climbed into his car. “You get that a lot?”
Joshua shrugged. “Sometimes. People are curious. They want to come out and see us like we’re some show or something. Others want to come out and buy our food and things like it’s magical. Most are okay though.” He reared back to throw the ball, gesturing that Brandon should get ready.
Brandon pushed thoughts of the man and his shed from his mind, but couldn’t help wondering about the others. Were the Amish so different that people went out of their way just to look at them? He’d never given it much thought. He’d heard that there were some in Tennessee close to where he had grown up, but he’d never been there. Would probably never go. But it seemed that there were others who would go just to see if they were real.
Of course they were real. And they were people. Just like him. Just like his mom.
He almost dropped the ball, but managed to recover it before it hit the ground.
His mom. They were more than like her. She was one of them. Born and raised here.
The thought was crazy.
Had people driven out to stare at her the way Joshua was describing? Brandon couldn’t imagine. Like, that was his mom.
It made him angry just to think about it.
He had only been there a couple of days, but he’d seen enough to know. He’d seen his grandmother returning from her errand carrying a bag of apples. After all the hints he’d dropped about apple being his favorite pie, he knew she was making him one. The thought warmed him from the inside out. Carlos’s grandmother made Carlos caramel cheesecake at the drop of a hat. It was just what grandmothers did.
The truth was, they might dress a little differently and talk sort of funny, but they were just people, no more, no less.
Chapter Nine
“You’re wearing that?”
Hannah stopped short as Gracie pointed to her jeans and short-sleeved button-down. She looked down at herself, then back to her cousin. “It appears so.”
“When Aaron comes to supper?”
“Yes.” She smoothed her hands over her hips, doing her best to act calm. This was nothing. Just supper with old friends. There was no need to wear anything other than what she had on.
“You don’t want to wear a dress?”
Hannah raised one brow. “An Amish dress?”
“Jah. Of course.”
“I thought you didn’t want me to give him any ideas.”
“I thought you said there was nothing to this.”
Hannah shook her head. “There’s not.”
“Shouldn’t you wear something a little more appropriate?”
“This is appropriate.”
“Uh-huh.” Gracie’s look was more than skeptical.
Truth was Hannah had been thinking about donning her traditional Amish garb, though she couldn’t really say why. Habit? Maybe nostalgia. Or perhaps she wanted to see what it felt like now, knowing what she did, having lived where she had. But that was silly. Nothing would be different. Clothes might make the man in the Englisch world, but they meant nothing to the Amish.
“Come on,” Gracie said, motioning Hannah toward the kitchen. “Your mamm said she needed help setting the table.”
Hannah followed her into the kitchen. “Where’s Tillie?”
“You’ve been home less than a week and you’re already trying to get out of chores?”
“Not at all. I just wondered where she was.”
Gracie pulled a face, then cleared her expression with quick ease. “Out with Melvin.”
Hannah grabbed a stack of plates and carried them to the table. “What was the look for?”
Gracie glanced toward Mamm, and Hannah had a feeling the minute her mother was out of hearing range she would get an earful. Gracie felt Melvin was a “bad influence” on Tillie.
But Mamm stayed close, and Hannah had to bite her tongue to keep from asking all the questions vying to be released.
“Hannah Mae, come get this.” Mamm gestured toward the large pan of roast and potatoes. Her mother must have thought tonight deserved a special treat. No one cooked a roast in August. It was simply too hot to have the oven on that long. But there it was, a roast with all the trimmings: potatoes, carrots, onions. Hannah’s mouth watered just looking at it. And the smell was out of this world. She hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge how much she had missed her mamm’s cooking until she returned home.
She might not be able to return to the faith. She might not ever be able to live without the comforts she had become accustomed to. But she could sure try in order to eat her mother’s biscuits and gravy every day.
“Did you hear something?” Mamm twirled around, her cheeks flushed from the heat of cooking.
“Hear what?” Gracie asked. She calmly placed a fork by everyone’s seat and a butter knife next to each place where adults would be sitting.
“I thought I heard a buggy.” She glanced at the battery-operated clock on the wall. “They’re early.”
Hannah’s gaze followed her mother’s. Five minutes early. And why was her mo
ther acting like the president was coming to eat?
Scratch that. Her parents weren’t exactly political even by Amish standards, so Mamm wouldn’t do much different if the president was coming to eat. So why was she giving Aaron the special treatment?
Her mother’s gaze fell on her and widened in something akin to shock or horror. “Hannah, go brush your hair. And pull it back. You look so . . .” She trailed off, and Hannah was left wondering if she had lost the words or found them to be more than she wanted to reveal.
“Pull it back?” Hannah asked, backing toward the door.
“Yes. Please. Now go. Hurry. Before he sees you.”
Hannah didn’t know whether to scream or laugh as she turned and headed back to the sewing room to brush her hair and pull it back as requested. She hadn’t given a single thought to defying her mother. It just wasn’t in her.
But why did her mother want her to look a certain way for Aaron to come to supper? There was only one answer, and Hannah did not like it.
But surely she was wrong. Surely her mother didn’t think that a pot roast and a ponytail could get the two of them back together. Maybe Gracie was right. Maybe she was giving her family expectations that she couldn’t uphold.
At least her mother hadn’t asked her to put on an Amish dress.
Hannah dragged a brush through her hair, then scooped it up into a messy bun at the base of her neck. It was as far from a bob as she could come without leaving her hair down. But all this talk of hair and dresses had her on edge. She had invited Aaron to eat with them in order to catch up on the last fifteen years. Not so she could tell him everything. But she wanted to reconnect. Once upon a time she had loved Aaron. Maybe she even loved him a bit still. But she had walked away from everything and everyone. Now the regrets were piling high. Was it too much to ask to right a couple of wrongs?
She didn’t think so.
A knock sounded at the front door. Her mother had been right. Aaron had even arrived a little early to boot.
Her heart sped up its beat in her chest. Aaron was here!
“Are you going to get the door?” Gracie poked her head out of the kitchen and pinned Hannah with those shrewd blue eyes. When her cousin looked at her like that, Hannah was certain she had no secrets left to keep. Or maybe she was just being paranoid.
