by Amy Lillard
“Why?” he asked.
He didn’t have to explain; Hannah understood.
“It’s complicated.”
Brandon shook his head. “That just means I don’t want to tell you.”
Hannah sucked in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Okay. When I was eighteen, I decided that I wanted to know more about the Englisch world. You know, non-Amish.”
“Okay.”
“Well, I guess I really wanted to know more long before then. When I was eighteen, I decided to act on it.”
Brandon stared at the table as his mother spoke.
Once again Aaron had to bite back instructions for Brandon to sit up, listen, and show some respect. He’d let him have tonight, but after that . . .
“I decided to leave. Your aunt Leah didn’t want me to go alone, but she didn’t want to leave. In the end, she went with me, but only for me. And I knew that if I told Aaron what I had planned, he would never let me leave.”
Brandon finally looked up and caught his mother’s gaze. “You didn’t tell him?”
“No.”
“What about me? Why didn’t you tell him that you were pregnant with me?”
Aaron had to hand it to the boy. Those couldn’t be the easiest words to say, but he managed them without so much as a crack in his voice.
“I didn’t know.”
Aaron could tell from the light in Brandon’s eyes it was a scenario that he hadn’t considered.
“I wasn’t going to be gone forever, just a couple of months. I just wanted to see what I was missing.”
“How does Dad . . . Mitch figure in?”
“Well.” Hannah sucked in a deep breath as if preparing herself for a long battle. “When I found out that I was pregnant, I had been seeing your dad for a couple of weeks.”
“Mitch,” Brandon corrected.
“Yeah.” Hannah nodded. “We had been seeing each other for a little while. When I told him that I was pregnant, I figured he’d run for the hills.”
“But he didn’t?” Brandon asked.
“No.”
The one word was hard for Aaron to hear. Mitch had had fifteen years with Hannah and hadn’t appreciated them at all. How cheated they had all been.
“He told me that he had always wanted a family and right then was a great time to start.”
“Why did he act like he hated me?”
“Oh, Brandon.” She reached for him again, and this time he allowed her to take his hands. “He never hated you, but he could never get over the fact that you weren’t his. Biologically speaking.”
Aaron couldn’t imagine what sort of man Hannah had tied herself to.
“He resented me.”
“I guess that’s as good a way to put it as any.”
Aaron could see the thoughts churning in Brandon’s head. They reflected in his eyes: fear, confusion, his own resentment.
“Now what do we do? I mean, it’s not like we can be one big happy family. Can we?” Brandon looked at each of them in turn.
Hannah’s expression clouded over. “No. We can’t.”
“Why not?” The yearning on his face was almost more than Aaron could bear. The son he had never known was starved for love and acceptance by a man who had never known what he had. The thought sickened him. And yet there was nothing he could do about it.
“The Amish church has certain rules and regulations. I can’t follow those, and therefore I can’t join the church.”
“It’s not like the two of you are going to go get married or anything.”
“No.”
The word pierced Aaron’s heart. He wanted that more than he wanted his next breath. He wanted Hannah to finally be his. He wanted Brandon to know a father’s love. And yet . . .
The only way they could all be together would be for him to leave the Amish. And that was just something he couldn’t do.
* * *
They talked until Brandon couldn’t talk anymore. He was exhausted, all talked out, and yet he still had a hundred questions floating around his brain.
He flopped over and stared at the ceiling. He was alone in the sewing room. His mom hadn’t come to bed yet, and for that he was grateful. He needed a little alone time.
There had been a moment or two during their talk when Brandon had thought for a brief time that the three of them might form a family. How great would that be?
But no.
How dumb that he even thought about it. That was a kid’s dream, and this was a grown-up situation. Things just didn’t work out like that. Life didn’t have a Hallmark ending.
What would happen now? Would they stay in Pontotoc? Maybe. Go back to Nashville? Probably not. They couldn’t remain with the Amish, at least that was what he thought they had said. He would have to start over once again.
He was fifteen years old and so very tired.
Brandon rolled onto his side, pounded his pillow into submission, and did his best to fall asleep. But oblivion was a long time in coming.
* * *
She should be at church.
Hannah couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong, and the only thing she could think of was that she should have gone to church. Maybe she couldn’t attend the Amish church, but she could have gone into town or attended the Mennonite church with Leah. It wouldn’t be the same as church in the house of one of her neighbors, but at least she would have been closer to God.
She looked out over the yard and prayed for peace. It was just another unfulfilled request.
Brandon had gotten up and walked down to the pond just after breakfast. Hannah didn’t blame him for needing space, but she wished with all her might that she could take some of the confusion and anger from him. He had every right to be mad at her, even though it killed her inside. She could only hope that one day very soon, he would find it in his heart to completely forgive her. Until then, she vowed to give him love and space and pray for the best.
A car engine drew her attention. Leah’s car puttered down the drive. Hannah was a bit jealous of her sister. Leah had such a sense of peace about her life decisions. For someone who hadn’t wanted to leave their conservative Amish community, she had adjusted comfortably into her new Mennonite life.
Hannah figured that it wouldn’t be long until the bishop came to Leah about her place in the church, but until then she would come and go as she pleased. And if they were really lucky, the bishop wouldn’t get involved at all unless someone in the district complained.
One thing was certain: Hannah couldn’t stay there indefinitely with no plans.
Leah got out of her car and made her way toward the house, her long skirt swinging around her ankles. She waved to Hannah as she approached.
“Is everyone still at church?”
Hannah nodded.
“Where’s Brandon?”
“He’s at the pond.”
“Still?” Leah slid into the porch swing next to Hannah.
“I guess he’s got some things to work out.”
Leah gave a quick dip of her chin. “Like his mamm.”
“There’s nothing more to work out.”
“You’re not fooling anyone but yourself. And maybe Mamm, because you know, she sees only what she wants to see.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means our mother—”
“Not what I was talking about.”
Leah shot her an innocent smile. “You love Aaron.”
“Not that it matters.”
“You’re wrong. It matters a great deal.”
Only to the two of them. “What’s your point, Leah?”
“I want you to be happy.”
“You know, when I found out that Aaron was seeing Lizzie Yoder, I stopped praying. I figured God wasn’t listening anymore. I guess I was too far away from the church to believe that He cared about me.”
“You don’t really believe that. Do you?”
“My list of unanswered prayers would reach from here
to Memphis.”
“You think He has forsaken you?”
Hannah spread her hands before her, their emptiness a reflection of how she felt inside. “He’s not listening. If He is, then He’s not answering. I’m navigating this all by myself when I need Him more than ever.” Again she envied her sister for finding her own place with God. “I can only suspect that I’m not supposed to have what I’ve been asking for.” It was a bitter pill to swallow. Was she really asking for so much? She wanted to rejoin the church. She wanted to spend her life with Aaron. But she wanted—no, needed—to raise the son who meant so much to her. Why would God give her those desires only to make them impossible to achieve?
“Maybe it’s not what you’re asking for, but how you’re asking.”
“Maybe,” Hannah murmured. But she had prayed, she had surrendered, she had made vow after vow. What else was a woman to do?
* * *
“What do you think?” Leah’s voice echoed inside the empty shop.
First thing Monday morning, Leah had invited Hannah to come check out the space. In support of her sister, Hannah readily agreed. They dropped a sullen Brandon off at the library to do his schoolwork while they went down the street to check out the store space together.
“It’s . . .” Hannah had no idea what to say about the blank space. The only thing the shop had in it right then was a wall of empty shelves and a small counter made of glass. The top panel was cracked.
“I know it doesn’t look like much, but I can see it.” Leah whirled around toward the shelves. “The shoes could go there. Housewares in the front window, clothes in the middle, and the Amish stuff in the very back.”
“Have you talked to the bishop about it?”
“Mamm mentioned it to him. He seemed to like the idea. Well, as much as Amos Raber likes anything.” Leah chuckled. “He didn’t veto it, so I consider that a positive response.”
“And you think the Amish are going to come down Main.” Hannah shook her head. Unlike some of the other, larger Amish communities across the country, the Amish in Pontotoc kept to themselves as much as possible. A horse and buggy on Main Street would garner way too much attention for most of the community to be comfortable with the idea.
“That’s the beauty of it. The Amish customers can come in through the back. Then they won’t have to deal with gawkers. Perfect.”
“It does sound like a good plan.”
Leah crossed her arms and squinted at her. “Then why do you sound so down?”
Hannah sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s . . .” She shook her head.
“Have you even talked to Aaron?”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing left to say.”
“He’s staying here to be closer to Brandon, but the two of you—”
“Are history, as they say.” The defeat in her voice was as thick as stew.
“You’re giving up.”
“There’s nothing to keep going.”
Leah shook her head. “I think you’re missing something.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, but it wouldn’t do any good for me to tell you. This is something you have to work out for yourself.”
She might be only eight minutes older, but Hannah hated when her baby sister was right. The only problem, there was nothing else to figure out.
“Come on.” Leah hooked one hand over her shoulder. “I’ll show you the upstairs. There’s the cutest little apartment up there.”
* * *
“Are you serious?” Shelly leaned across the table, her eyes wide. “What did you do?”
Brandon shrugged as if it were no big deal. “I asked her.”
“And she said?”
“That it was true.”
“Wow.” Shelly leaned back and exhaled heavily. “Just wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Now what?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“It’s not like I can live with him or anything. It’s not like I’ll spend my weekends there, like my friends with divorced parents do. I mean, he’s Amish.”
“What a mess.”
“You can say that again. Don’t,” he continued when she opened her mouth to do just that.
Shelly shot him a sympathetic smile. “I know you’re upset, but this has some good aspects, don’t you think?”
That was Shelly, always looking at the bright side of everything. “Like what?” From where he stood, all he could see were the people who had lied to him his entire life.
“You have a father.”
“That I don’t know.”
“You’re living close to him. And he seems like a nice man.”
Brandon had almost forgotten that she had met him at the party.
“And you have a brother and two sisters.”
That was definitely something he hadn’t thought about. “And that’s a good thing?”
“Of course it is. I mean, it’s not like you’ll be living together, but brothers and sisters are the best.” Family was very important to Shelly. Through her eyes, he had started to view his newly found family a bit differently. It had just been the three of them when they had lived in Nashville—him, his mom, and his dad, Mitch. But now he had a grandmother, a great-grandmother, aunts, uncles, and all sorts of cousins.
“I’m just saying, you should give it all a chance. You might find out you like having an Amish father.”
Brandon laughed, and Shelly joined in. The librarian shushed them, and they ducked back behind their books.
Somehow Shelly knew just the right thing to say.
Maybe he would give this all a chance. After all, going around mad at everyone was beginning to get exhausting.
* * *
His aunt Leah picked him up and drove him back to his grandmother’s house. All the way, she chatted about her new store.
“People want to buy things that other people have already owned?”
“Of course. Look at all the thrift stores and antique stores.”
“And a secondhand store is about the same thing?”
“It’s exactly the same thing,” his aunt said.
Leah Gingerich was a little odd as far as he was concerned, and he meant that in the best possible way. She dressed a lot like a hippie, and a lot like Shelly, in long shirts and loose tops. She wore her hair pulled back much like the Amish women did. Most days she wore a small black doily-looking thing pinned to her bun instead of one of those white caps his grandmother preferred. Today, however, Leah wore a triangle bandanna over her hair and tied at the nape of her neck.
“Why do Amish women cover their hair?”
She looked over at him, her eyes curious. “What makes you ask that?”
He shrugged. “I’ve just noticed that all of you cover up your hair. My friend Shelly doesn’t do that, and her family is really conservative.”
“Well, the Amish and the Mennonite both believe that in order to properly respect God when we pray, our heads should be covered.”
“What about now? Why are you wearing one of those in the car?”
“I might decide to start praying.”
“And you pray outside of church?”
Leah cast him another quick glance. “Your mother didn’t take you to church very often, did she?”
“No. I mean, we went a couple of times, but not regular.”
“Would you like to go with me?”
“To the Mennonite church? Am I allowed?”
“Of course.” Leah laughed. “Everyone is welcome.”
“And I don’t have to be Mennonite?”
“Not at all.”
He half turned in his seat. “But you have to be Amish in order to go to the Amish church.”
“That’s right.”
“And it’s not easy being Amish.”
She shrugged one shoulder, but kept her hands loosely on the wheel. “Most people don’t want to convert. It’s not an easy life.”
/> “Tell me about it,” he grumbled. A month plus without video games and cell phones had made him appreciate them more, but that long without electricity and indoor plumbing had about driven him crazy. “I don’t understand why anyone would want to live that way. No offense to Mammi or anything.”
“When you’re born Amish, it’s different.”
“But my mother didn’t want to stay.”
“That’s a hard one,” Leah finally said. “Your mother did want to stay. She wanted to explore a bit and then come back.”
“Why didn’t she?”
Leah shot him a quick smile. She and his mother might be twins, but they looked nothing alike. Leah’s eyes were a true green, and her hair was dark like tar. But when she smiled she looked just like Mom. Weird. “You’re going to have to ask her about that.”
Yet another mystery.
Leah pulled the car into the drive and parked it next to his. Well, one day it was going to be his. Now that he was fifteen he could get his license in Mississippi. It seemed they were staying, and that would suit him just fine.
“What’s going on?”
His mother was standing in the middle of the yard, hands on her hips as she turned in a circle. She looked almost lost.
“I don’t know. Hannah?” Leah called.
“It’s Samuel,” Mom said. “He’s gone.”
* * *
“Gone?” Leah asked. “What do you mean ‘gone’?”
“Gone.” Hannah wanted to scream. Didn’t her sister understand? “First he was here, and now he’s not. Jim’s baby is gone!”
Leah shoved her keys into her purse. “He has to be around here somewhere.”
“Did you check down by the pond?”
Hannah’s stomach dropped at Brandon’s question. “No.” That was dangerous, so, so dangerous.
“I’ll go.” He took off through the pasture and over the top of the small incline.
“Where is everybody?”
Hannah shook her head. “Jim and Anna are over at the school. David went with Dat and Mamm is searching the barn.”
“He’s got to be around here somewhere,” Leah said. “He’s got little legs. He can’t have gotten far.”
Hannah wrung her hands together. “He was with Mamm, and then he just disappeared. What if he gets in the road?”
Leah shook her head. “We just came from that way. I think we would have seen him.”
