A Home for Hannah

by Amy Lillard

  “And you still want that?” he asked.

  “I need to know that I can do it.”

  He reached for her hand, but pulled away before he actually touched her. “I understand.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded. “I do, but promise me one thing?”

  “I’ll try,” she said around the lump in her throat.

  “Promise me that we’ll always be friends.”

  She gave him a trembling smile. “I promise.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  After everyone ate and the mess was cleaned up, a friendly game of kickball started. That was another thing she missed about the Amish. Everyone knew that they worked hard, but they also knew how to enjoy themselves. How many volleyball games, softball games, and other spur-of-the-moment activities had she and Aaron been a part of when they were younger? Too many to count.

  Aaron pointed to the game. “Do you want to play?”

  No matter how much she tried to keep her distance, it seemed that every time she turned around, there he was. It was as if God was pushing them together. Or maybe that was just what she wanted to believe.

  God wasn’t trying to get them together; Gracie was.

  Hannah shook her head. “I’m worn out. I’m ready to go home, but I can’t find Gracie. Have you seen her?”

  “No. Have you checked with Sarah? The last time I saw her she was looking for Sarah.”

  “I’ll check.” But Hannah had the sinking suspicion that something was not exactly right with the entire situation.

  “There she is.”

  “Gracie?” Hannah asked, craning her neck around to see where Aaron had pointed.

  “No. Sarah.” He waved her over as Hannah tried to keep level about the situation. If what she thought had happened had actually happened, then . . .

  “Hi, Sarah,” Aaron started. “Hannah is looking for Gracie. Have you seen her?”

  Her forehead wrinkled into a small frown, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “She just left.”

  “She what?” Hannah did her best to keep her voice to a normal level.

  “She . . . left . . .” Sarah repeated, slower this time. “She asked me to let you know.” She cast her glance toward Aaron, then lowered her voice, leaning closer to better be heard. “She had a problem with her dress.” The last word was barely audible.

  “She did.”

  Sarah nodded, totally missing the sarcasm in Hannah’s tone. “She had Lavina King take her back home so you wouldn’t be without a ride.”

  Hannah managed not to cross her arms and glare down her nose. It wasn’t Sarah’s fault that Gracie thought this would somehow push her and Aaron together.

  Could that really be her plan? Hannah mentally shook her head. No. It was too far-fetched. Gracie could have faked a problem with her dress, but that didn’t mean it would force Hannah and Aaron together.

  Except that they had all ridden to the frolic together.

  She turned to Aaron. “I guess it’s just you and me.”

  He nodded. “It seems so.”

  Sarah clasped Hannah’s hands and squeezed her fingers. “Thank you so much for coming out today. Thank you both.”

  “You’re welcome,” they murmured together.

  Sarah smiled, then moved away to talk to someone else about to leave.

  Aaron sighed. “I guess we should go.”

  “Yes.”

  Why did it feel so weird to be walking beside him? They were just riding back to her house. It wasn’t like they were on a date. But how many times had they ridden just like this so many years ago? More than she could count. But this time it was different. They were just friends.

  He helped her into the buggy, then slid in next to her. Would it be too strange if she sat in the back? Maybe. She rode beside him all the way here, but that had been another matter entirely. Gracie had been in the seat behind them. Sure, Hannah had been very aware of Aaron and every breath he took, but there had been an audience. Now it was just the two of them.

  He set the horse into motion. The buggy lurched to the right. Hannah braced one hand against the side of the buggy to keep from falling into his lap.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled and urged the horse toward more level ground.

  Aaron waved to a couple of people as he drove away, and Hannah felt obligated to do the same, though she saw no faces. All her concentration was centered on the man next to her.

  She was being ridiculous. Yes, there had been a time when she and Aaron had shared a pure love. But she had ruined that with her curious and impulsive nature. There was no getting it back.

  “Do you remember the time that David found the baby squirrel in the woods?”

  She hadn’t thought about that in years. She smiled with the memory. “And he brought it home because he thought he would start a squirrel farm.”

  Aaron chuckled. “He built that huge pen for him.”

  “Then Leah set it free.”

  Aaron sobered. “Have you talked to Leah since you ret—got back?”

  “No.” She had been meaning to contact her sister, but she had limited means. Brandon’s cell phone was dead the majority of the time, and when it wasn’t Brandon had it, texting or playing games.

  And then there was the matter of she didn’t know what to say to her sister.

  They had talked since their argument. But it would be the first time she had talked to Leah in a while.

  Argument was such an understatement. Twins shouldn’t fight like that, yelling and screaming at each other, but they had that night, and it had changed the course of their relationship forever.

  But the real truth was that she hadn’t put much energy into contacting her sister. Not since her return. She didn’t want to rehash all the mistakes she had made. And though Leah would never say it, Hannah didn’t want to see I told you so shining in her eyes.

  “Sorry. I just thought—” Aaron didn’t have to finish; she knew what he was going to say. They had been so close back in the day, but things had changed.

  “It’s okay.” She shot him a comforting smile. “You know, we’re never going to get past this if we keep apologizing every five minutes.”

  “Sor—” He shook his head with a small grin. “Is that what we’re trying to do? Get past this?”

  “If we’re going to be friends, then don’t you think that’s the best way?”

  “I suppose.” But he shrugged one shoulder, then grew quiet as if in deep thought.

  They rode along in silence, then he emitted a low growl and steered the carriage to the side of the road. Thankfully they were at the mouth of a small side road and were a little more protected than if they hadn’t been.

  “Aaron?”

  He turned in his seat to face her. “If we’re moving past this—” He shook his head. “Then there’s something I need to know.”

  Hannah’s mouth grew dry. “What’s that?”

  “Why did you leave?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but he cut her short.

  “Please don’t give me the answer you gave your parents.”

  Her heart pounded in her ears. “I really just wanted to see what was out there.”

  “So you took off without leaving a note or anything.”

  “I was afraid that if I told you where I was going, then you would follow me.”

  “If I had, would it have made a difference?” His gaze bored right through her. It was as if he could see every part of her, every emotion, every thought, every atom of her being.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  When had he moved so close? She could easily touch his face, run her fingers along his cheek, test the wiry curls that made up his beard. And she did. He felt just as he had all those years ago. How could she remember that? She didn’t know, but it was there all the same.

  “Hannah,” he breathed and moved closer still.

  He was going to kiss her . . . and there was nothing she could do about it. Not that she wanted to. If he felt t
he same, then surely his kiss would be the same as well. She had to find out. She needed to know. For the sake of comparison. Yeah, that was it. Just an experiment to test the memory.

  Her eyes fluttered shut and his lips met hers.

  His kiss was the same and yet infinitely different. When he had kissed her before he had been a boy, a little unsure of himself, eager and seeking. This kiss was all that and more. Now there was a wisdom in his kiss that hadn’t been there before. A wisdom that came with living. And he had lived that life without her.

  She wouldn’t feel bad about that. She couldn’t, but sometimes she wished . . .

  Sometimes she wished a lot of things. But she only had here. And now. She only had this moment in time with him. He was moving to Ohio. She had to prove it to herself that she could stand on her own two feet. Just as before, they had different goals, different dreams, even though every breath pulled them closer together.

  But for now, she had this kiss . . .

  He abruptly pulled away, his breathing as ragged as her own.

  “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Her lips tingled where his had been. She wished he hadn’t have done that too, and she wished that he hadn’t stopped.

  This was more than confusing.

  She shook her head, more to rattle her thoughts back into some semblance of order than to say no. The action didn’t work. “No regrets,” she finally said. “We have too many of those already.”

  He blew out a breath as if only then realizing that he had been holding it. “Do you? Regret it?”

  There were so many things she regretted in her life, more than she wanted to admit. Leaving Pontotoc, that was at the top of the list. And yet it had made her who she was today.

  Uneducated, broke, widowed.

  She pushed that voice aside. “I have more regrets than you will ever know.” But that kiss wasn’t one of them.

  “What do we do about that?”

  “I have no idea.”

  He looked out the front of the buggy, leaving her to stare at his profile. That alone told her how things had changed. Every time she wanted to believe that they might be able to be friends, she was sorely reminded that he wasn’t the same person he had been back then. And now, more and more, she was understanding that the shift in him was all her fault.

  “When I see you dressed like that, I tend to forget the last fifteen years.” He kept his gaze trained on the road ahead. “No, that’s not really true either. When I see you dressed like that, the past and the present seem to merge into one and everything else becomes blurry and gray. Then I find it hard to remember all the reasons why we can’t be together.”

  “I understand,” she said, but still he didn’t turn to look at her.

  “But there’s this part of me,” he said, his teeth clenched, “there’s this part of me that wants to know for certain, no speculation, as to whether or not we still have something between us.”

  If the kiss they just shared was any indication, then there was definitely something still between them. A lot of something.

  “What if there is?” she asked.

  He turned back to her then, blue eyes blazing. “Then I can’t see throwing it away a second time.”

  * * *

  Aaron watched as the emotions chased across her face. There were fear, desire, curiosity, and something else he couldn’t name.

  “What then?”

  It could never be easy. She was Englisch; he was Amish. There was no middle ground to meet in. It would have to be one or the other. “I don’t know.”

  She nodded.

  The kiss they had just shared had been more than fantastic. It was the stuff dreams were made of. And he wanted to kiss her again and again until they knew for certain what God had planned for them.

  Or would another kiss just muddle his thinking and keep him from seeing God’s real plan?

  “Can we just see?” he asked. “Give it a try. Spend a little time together. There’s no sense making plans for the future if there’s not to be a future for the two of us.”

  But the opposite could be said as well. How could they revive a relationship if there was no way for them to be together in the end?

  But he wanted to spend time with her. He wanted to see if these feelings were real or just a trick of the mind.

  A car horn sounded behind them. Aaron shoved his arm out the buggy window and motioned for them to go around.

  “How will this work?” Hannah asked once the car was out of sight and the dust had cleared.

  “Maybe we spend two nights a week together. Supper at your house, then supper at mine.” It was a lame idea, but the best he could come up with for now. There would be more work frolics, picnics, and after-church activities to come, but they all had a bigger audience. They should start off slow, with only family witnessing their experiment.

  “What about Brandon?”

  She was a package deal. He knew that, but he wasn’t sure what to do about it. “He can come, of course. If he wants to. But don’t make him if he doesn’t.”

  “And your kids?”

  “Same thing. In fact, the less we keep them involved, the easier it might be on them if things—” He stopped.

  “If things don’t work out,” she finished.

  “Jah.” There was always that possibility. In fact, that possibility seemed greater than any other.

  What are you doing? Do you honestly think this has a chance?

  He did and he didn’t, but there was one thing that he knew for certain. If they didn’t give it a try, they would never know. He’d spent over fifteen years wondering about could-have-beens. He was ready to see them through.

  * * *

  “Gracie,” Hannah called as she entered the house a bit later. Without any more than a quick touch to the hand, Aaron had gathered up his kids and headed home.

  Strange, but Gracie, so often right in the thick of things, was nowhere around.

  “Gracie,” she called again, louder this time.

  “Hannah Mae, what is all this hollering about?” Mamm bustled out of the kitchen, cheeks as pink as always from the heat inside.

  “I need to talk to Gracie about something.” Hannah did her best to keep her emotions under control. She wasn’t so much angry with her cousin as she was put out. She had to believe that she and Aaron would find their way together if that was meant to be, and they didn’t need Gracie meddling in their lives, making things happen before their time.

  She stopped short. When had she started believing in God’s will again? Sometime in the last couple of days. Maybe when she realized that she had come back to Pontotoc for a reason. And that reason was Aaron Zook. It had to be. Why else would God have put her through the trials of her relationship with Mitch, if not to give her a second chance with Aaron?

  The idea made her light-headed. The last few days had been some of the best in her life. She hadn’t realized the kind of stress she had been under until it was removed. They still had stress in the Amish community, and it was real, but it paled in comparison to the pressures the Englisch subjected themselves to.

  Now she was here and testing out a second chance with the one person she had never stopped loving. Yes, she could admit it now. Or maybe she couldn’t deny it any longer, not after that blazing kiss on the roadside, but she loved Aaron Zook. She always had, and she always would. But she had seen enough good relationships turn bad that she knew it took more than love to keep two people together. Besides, Aaron hadn’t said that he loved her. She couldn’t get her hopes up before there was some potential.

  “Gracie!”

  “Hannah, really,” Mamm said. She turned on her heel and headed back to the kitchen.

  “Gra—oh, there you are.”

  Her cousin appeared from the direction of the dawdihaus, blinking innocently at Hannah. “What’s wrong?”

  “What are you doing? Leaving me at the frolic.”

  Gracie gave a delicate shrug. “I had a problem with my dress, and
it wasn’t like I left you without a ride.”

  “Beside the point. What sort of problem?”

  “Oh, you know . . .” She hem-hawed around.

  “No, actually, I don’t.”

  “It was the seams or something.” She waved a hand about, her answer vague enough for Hannah to truly know that she was lying.

  Hannah expelled a heavy breath. “Listen, I appreciate what I think you’re trying to do, but Aaron and I need to work this out for ourselves.”

  “And did you?” Gracie asked.

  “Did we what?”

  “Work this out for yourselves?”

  Hannah paused for a moment. “We’ve got a plan. From there we’ll just have to see how it goes.”

  Gracie gave a quick nod, a smile playing with the corners of her lips. “Well, then, you’re welcome.” She spun around and left the room, Hannah staring after her gape-mouthed. Where had her mild-mannered cousin gone? She might never know, but despite her concerns about Gracie’s interference, her cousin had gotten her and Aaron onto the right track. They had made a plan to see if they could continue their relationship once again. That might not have happened if it hadn’t been for Gracie.

  “Thanks,” Hannah called toward her departing back. She might have felt it in her heart, but her tone was far from gracious.

  * * *

  Aaron arrived the next morning at ten o’clock on the dot. Hannah knew because she was watching at the living room window. Yes, she could admit it now, but she wasn’t going to rush out and greet him. In fact she wasn’t going out to talk to him at all. She didn’t want to appear too eager, and she certainly didn’t want him to think that she had gone off the deep end.

  “Are you watching Aaron?” Gracie asked from behind her.

  Hannah jumped in her seat. “Gracie! Quit sneaking up on people.”

  “I’m not sneaking up on people. Just you.”

  Hannah turned back around. “Ha. Ha.”

  Gracie peered over her shoulder. “You are watching Aaron.”

  No way was she making a big deal out of this. “Sure. Watching him train a horse is like watching a ballet.”

  Gracie straightened and pulled a face. “I’ve never seen a ballet.”

  “Well, they are beautiful. Flowing movements, graceful steps. Even without music they would be breathtaking.” And that was exactly what Aaron training Star was: a ballet without music. Breathtaking.