by Amy Lillard
* * *
It was well past nine o’clock before Aaron had any time for himself; he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or bad. As long as he was busy getting Essie and Laura Kate to bed and making sure Andy brushed his teeth and combed his hair before retiring as well, Aaron didn’t have time to think about Hannah. He wanted to think about her almost as much as he didn’t want to think about her. She was confusing to him, to say the least. In some ways she was just like the old Hannah and in other ways she was different as night and day. But there had been a time, out by the goat pen, standing there talking to her, and all the barriers between them fell away. Once again they were the Aaron and Hannah of fifteen years ago, talking, laughing together, simply enjoying the other’s company without any expectation or demand. How he missed that. But as quickly as it had come, that comfort had disappeared, and Aaron was left wondering where it had gone. Or maybe it was why it had gone.
He would be lying to say he wasn’t looking forward to spending time with her Monday afternoon. There would be plenty of people around, but somehow he knew it was going to be different. How many times in the past had they gone to people’s houses to carry through with a work frolic or singing to the sick or elderly? So many times in their youth, they had gone to help others, elders and young people alike. This would be like that, like old times.
But it’s not like that.
“It could be,” he argued back. But he wasn’t sure how. Did he make it so by simply wanting it that much? And he didn’t want it; he knew he couldn’t. He just wanted one more glance at how they had been back then. Just one more glance at the beauty they’d shared. There were beautiful things in the world, and then there were beautiful things in the world. Their relationship had been one of those. Not many people had that; not many people even knew it existed. He and Hannah, they’d had everything for a time, only to have it slip through their fingers. And they could never get it back. But if he could see it one last time, he would know it was there, and that might even be enough to get him through his old age.
And Ohio?
Ohio was just another reason why it could never be between him and Hannah. She could stay in Pontotoc all she wanted, but it wouldn’t change a thing. Sarah Hostetler might hold the dream of opening a candy shop, but Aaron’s dreams were a bit different. If he wanted to live out those dreams, Ohio was the place he had to be.
Chapter Ten
She was sitting on the porch swing, wondering about this moment as she pushed herself back and forth using the heels of her feet. She might still be dressing in her Englisch clothes, jeans and T-shirts, but she had taken back to going barefoot as easily as a duck to water.
Her father eased down next to her, and Hannah did her best to hide her surprise. After so many days of him avoiding even looking at her, having him suddenly acknowledge her presence was a bit unsettling.
“I need to know your plans.”
Just like Dat; straight to the point.
“I don’t really have a lot of plans.” It was the best answer she could offer. She was waiting and hoping. Waiting on the attorney, waiting on the judges, waiting on the insurance. Hoping there would be enough money to pay off all of Mitch’s hidden debt, hoping there would be enough left over for her and Brandon to start again.
He seemed to think about that for a moment. “Why did you come back?”
She knew what he meant. Why had she come back now? She just didn’t know how to answer him. He already knew the large facts—her husband had died, and she was practically penniless—but that was all. No need to go into details that he wouldn’t understand and she didn’t care to admit. “My life didn’t exactly turn out like I’d hoped.” That was putting it mildly.
Her father stared out over the end of the porch. She could only imagine what was going on inside his head. “Will you leave again?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but closed it again to gather her thoughts. “I have Brandon to think about.” As far as answers went, hers was about as vague as they came.
Her father’s gaze shifted to the hangnail on his left hand. “What am I supposed to tell the bishop?”
“I don’t know.” She swallowed hard, reluctant to say the next words regardless of how desperately they needed to be said. “I just need a little help. I have nowhere else to turn.” The truth sent stinging tears to her eyes.
Her father shifted his gaze to the horizon. “The bishop is committed to bringing wayward sheep back to the fold.”
It was true. So many outsiders believed that a Bann was punishment, but it wasn’t. Shunning was a way to bring those who strayed back to their senses. Let them see what they would be missing if they didn’t change their ways. Once they returned to a righteous path, then all would be forgiven.
She might not be able to say the words to her father, but she wasn’t returning. If he thought there was a chance of her staying and he told the bishop the same . . . then they would definitely allow her the time she needed. More than a couple of months. As long as it took.
“When he asks me tomorrow, that’s what I’ll tell him.” Her father had his own version of the truth solidified in his mind. Who was she to convince him otherwise?
A stab of conscience blazed through her. She would be forced to tell the truth soon enough. But until then . . .
Her father stood. “Better go talk to your mamm. You’ll be needing a dress for service tomorrow.”
* * *
Hannah looked down at herself and sighed. A few short months ago, if someone had told her that she would find herself here, in Pontotoc, on this beautiful Sunday morning dressed in traditional Amish clothes in order to go to the bimonthly church service, she would’ve laughed. She had left this life behind years ago, and though daydreams of returning had crept into her thoughts from time to time, she knew it could never happen. Not permanently. Now yesterday she had all but promised her dat she was staying. She could almost see the light of hope in his eyes, a hope that he wanted to believe in more than anything. When the time came and she had to leave again, it would be hard on everybody. But she saw no solution. There was no way to make this better.
She smoothed a hand over her cape and apron. The dress underneath was a somber navy blue, not her favorite color by far, but the one dress she could fit into.
She adjusted the straight pins that held together the bodice of the dress. How she had ever gotten through her days without scratching herself to pieces was a miracle. But if she had done it then, she could do it now. And the one big change? A bra. There was no way she was going out in public without a bra. Not that she was heavy-chested, but she felt exposed somehow. Though she knew she would probably be the only one in the congregation with one on, she just couldn’t make herself go without one.
A low whistle came from behind her. Hannah whirled around to find Brandon standing there, a goofy grin spread across his face. “You look hot.”
She gave him a mockingly serious look. “Watch your sass.”
He chuckled and made his way into the room, lying down on the bed and crossing one ankle over his bent knee, hands folded behind his head as if he hadn’t a care in the world. But they both knew otherwise. “What? You don’t like the down-home look?” he asked.
She hadn’t worn this look in years. But it had never been the way they dressed that had bothered her. It’d been more about knowledge, convenience, and just simply discovering what was out there. She could’ve done that in a frack and a prayer kapp. If she had been allowed.
“We’ll be home this afternoon sometime,” she said, pinning the prayer kapp in place. She tied it loosely under her chin in a neat little bow.
“This afternoon? You’re going to be gone all day?”
Hannah nodded. “Church is three hours, then we have a meal, and everyone will stay and visit for a while, so we’ll probably be home about three o’clock.”
Brandon pushed himself up on the bed. “What am I supposed to do all day without a cell phone, or a computer, or even
an MP3 player?”
She shot him an almost apologetic look. “Write a letter.”
He flopped back onto the bed, exasperated. She wanted to feel bad for him, but he wasn’t having to go sit on the church bench and listen to three hours of Bible teachings in high German. It wasn’t the teachings or the language that caused her grief, but the benches were hard on the back. Even for the young.
“You’ll survive,” she said, then patted his leg and started for the door.
“I take it back,” he called after her. “You don’t look hot, Mom. You look like a dork.”
Hannah chuckled. To him, she probably did look like a dork. He’d never seen her in anything like what she now wore. And it was more than a little strange to be walking around in Amish garb once again.
She stepped out onto the porch and stretched, hoping to pull some of the tension from her shoulders. The day was already starting off warm. By this afternoon she would be drenched in sweat from all the layers of clothing: the long-sleeved dress, cape, apron, and the thick black stockings that covered her legs. How she had survived this the first eighteen years of her life she wasn’t quite sure. Must be an acclimation thing. How long would it take her to get re-acclimated? She wouldn’t be here long enough to find out.
“Hannah,” Tillie called from the buggy. Her little sister waved her over.
Hannah made her way across the dusty drive to where Gracie and Tillie waited in the carriage.
“Mamm and Dat took Mammi to church already. They want to make sure they can get her settled in before the service starts.” Tillie’s smile grew wider. Hannah could only believe that it was due to her manner of dress. Though she couldn’t tell if Tillie was pleasantly surprised or laughing inside at the sight of Hannah in one of her mother’s dresses. “You can ride with us.”
“Thanks,” Hannah said, somehow keeping all the sarcasm from her tone.
Tillie hopped down from the front seat and moved around to the small seat in the rear of the carriage. “You can sit in the front.”
“Thanks again.”
“Brandon’s not going with us?” Gracie asked, picking up the reins but not yet setting the horse into motion.
Hannah shook her head. “I’m surprised that they even want me to go.”
“You won’t remember what you’re missing by staying home,” Tillie chirped from the back seat.
Hannah resisted the urge to shake her head again. She might be allowed back to church today, but she could almost guarantee that she couldn’t come back in two weeks if she didn’t perform her kneeling confession and state her intention of baptism classes.
Hannah didn’t answer, and the conversation ground to a quick halt. She wished one of them would say something, for without the easy, everyday chatter, her thoughts were growing bigger and bigger. What was she doing? It had never been her intention to deceive her father, and yet she had. What was she going to do when it was time to leave again?
“Everyone will be so happy to see you,” Gracie said, patting her arm.
“I doubt that,” Hannah murmured. She looked out over the fields. Funny how things never change. Fifteen years and the crops were the same: peanuts, soybeans, corn, and cotton. Muscadines and tomatoes.
“What about Aaron?” Tillie asked from the back seat.
Hannah twisted her fingers in her apron, then stopped and smoothed the fabric. She was only wrinkling it. “What about him?”
“Did you have fun last night?”
Hannah sniffed delicately. “We had a nice time, yes.”
“Gracie said y’all went around the house away from everyone else, all alone.”
Gracie’s mouth fell open. “I did not.”
“You did too.”
“I said they went off together.”
“What’s the difference?” Tillie asked.
“There’s a lot of difference,” Gracie retorted.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Hannah interjected. “Aaron and I can only be friends.”
“Who’s getting ideas?” Tillie said. “He’s a widower, you know.”
“Stop.” Hannah gave Gracie her stern you-better-listen-to-me look, then shifted in her seat to pin Tillie with it as well. Neither girl seemed to take her seriously.
“He was heartbroken after you left.” Gracie’s voice was soft, but carried as if she had yelled.
“Yeah, so heartbroken he took up with Lizzie Yoder less than four months later.” Four very important months.
But if it hadn’t been for that, would you have really come back?
She pushed that thought away. “What’s done is done,” she said. How many times had she uttered those words about Mitch? About their failed marriage? About all the bad choices she had made in her life? Unfortunately, there were a lot of them.
“But now you can have a second chance.” Tillie scooted forward and poked her head between them, an excited grin on her face.
“We won’t have a second chance. We don’t have a second chance.” She’d almost told them that she was leaving as soon as possible, yet here she was, sitting in the buggy on her way to church wearing an Amish dress. Who was she trying to kid? Neither one of them would listen to her now.
“You should leave yourself open to possibilities,” Gracie said.
Hannah studied her cousin. Gracie was a kind soul. And, Hannah thought, as she took in every aspect of her profile, she was quite beautiful. So how come no one had noticed that? How come no one had seen how smart she was? How come no one had swept her up before now?
It was as if Gracie was somehow invisible to everybody until they needed her for something. Hannah had only just realized it now. Anytime there was a problem while they were growing up everyone called Gracie. Too many tomatoes to can, but don’t have enough time? Call Gracie. Take a fall and get hurt? Call Gracie. Need help with the kids? The dogs? The chickens? Call Gracie.
Hannah turned her gaze back front, realizing that she was staring. She didn’t want to make her cousin uncomfortable. But why hadn’t she noticed that before? Why hadn’t she noticed that Gracie was the one constant helper in everyone’s life? She seemed happy enough about her lot, but Hannah couldn’t help but wonder if Gracie wanted more.
And wanting more is what got you into your predicament.
She really needed to get that voice under control. It seemed to taunt her every move now that she had returned to Pontotoc.
“Are you saying that you don’t want a second chance with Aaron?” Tillie asked.
“Who said he wanted the second chance with me?” It wasn’t exactly an answer, but Hannah hoped that it would be enough to dissuade any more question asking on the trip.
“Maybe we should find out . . .” Gracie pulled on the reins to turn the buggy down Oak Forest Road.
“Don’t you dare.” Hannah’s jaw ached from clenching her teeth to keep from yelling the words.
“Are you saying you don’t want us to go talk to Aaron for you?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” But she had a feeling those words fell on deaf ears. Her cousin and her sister exchanged a look, and Hannah had a feeling even more matchmaking would be going on very soon. But how did she tell them all she was leaving as soon as she possibly could?
* * *
Aaron could hardly believe his eyes. He stood next to the Danny Hostetlers’ barn with a group of other men talking about this, that, and the other. Nothing important, just before-church chatter about crops and horses and other things. He was surprised that no one had asked him about his job offer in Ohio. But he supposed everyone had chalked it up to God’s plan for his life. When Aaron figured it out, then that would be that.
“Is that . . . ?” Chris Lambert asked.
“It sure looks like it,” Jason Menno replied.
Aaron had no words of his own. As he watched, the most crazy, miraculous, unexpected thing happened. Hannah Gingerich McLean climbed out of a buggy.
The navy blue dress she wore and the newly starched prayer kapp brou
ght back more memories of her than he had even known he had. Their walks together, fishing at the pond, saying they were going fishing at the pond and not fishing at all. But he pushed those thoughts aside. It wasn’t time for that. That time was over, and it was never coming back. She had made her choice, and she had made her intentions clear. This was just a stop on her map. She was like a wild bird that had to be free. She might fly home every so often, but she would never stay.
But his heart didn’t get the message. It pounded heavily in his chest at the sight of her. He remembered the old days, their times together. So much had happened between them. So much that drew them together and yet her desire for more had ripped them apart.
“Are you going to say hi to her?” Jason asked.
Aaron shook his head. “I saw her the other day.” He explained how he’d gone over to the Gingeriches’ to work with one of Abner’s horses. He did his best to make the event as insignificant as possible, but the mischievous light stayed in both men’s eyes.
“Don’t you think it’s about time you got married again?” Amos asked.
Aaron shook his head. “Don’t even think about it.” How could he talk that way? If Aaron ever did get married again, it certainly wouldn’t be to Hannah Gingerich. And her returning home, bringing back all those memories, just gave him further cause to move to Ohio. Jah, that was what he would do.
Chapter Eleven
Hannah shifted uncomfortably on the bench and did her best to concentrate on the message the deacon was delivering to them. It was a good message about loving your neighbor and helping out when you were supposed to. It was a message of community and togetherness. Was it merely coincidence that he chose to speak about this, Hannah’s first church service back in Pontotoc?
Unlike Protestant preachers, Amish elders didn’t plan their service out in advance. They didn’t search through Bible passages, make notes, and work on getting just the right words for the congregation. No, Amish deacons, preachers, and bishops preached off-the-cuff. So it was most likely intentional that today the deacon felt moved to talk about togetherness.
