by Jo Ann Brown
“I’m not much gut with a hammer.”
Was she jesting? He didn’t dare take his eyes off the little girl to see. Deciding it’d be better not to respond to her comment, he said, “I can’t begin work until something is done about the beehive in a rotting board beneath the bridge.”
“Bees? What kind?” Excitement sifted into her voice.
“I think they’re honeybees.”
“You’re not sure?”
He risked a quick glance at Hannah who sat on the chair she’d taken from the tub. She watched how he cleaned the toddler. “You’re the expert. Not me. I can’t tell one kind of bee from another. They need to be moved so nobody gets stung while we’re working on the bridge. I considered spraying them, but I’ve heard there aren’t as many honeybees as there used to be.”
“Ja, that’s true. Pesticides and pests have killed them.”
“That’s why I decided to check with an expert—with you—before I contacted an exterminator.” He cupped his hand and poured warm water over Shelby’s head, wetting it so he could wash her hair. He kept his other hand above her eyes to prevent water from flowing into them.
“Danki for checking, Daniel. Many people don’t. They spray the hive, never stopping to think we need honeybees to pollinate our crops.” She held out a bottle of shampoo. “You’re gut with her.”
“Practice. My sister Esther was a lot younger than the rest of us, and I used to help Mamm. And I’ve got a bunch of nieces and nephews.” He edged back. “Do you want to put the shampoo on her hair?”
“Do you think she’ll let me?”
“One way to know.” Keeping his right hand on Shelby’s arm, he stepped aside.
Hannah eased past him, making sure not an inch of her brushed against him, not even the hem of her apron or kapp strings. She bent over the tub and smiled. “Let’s get your pretty hair clean, Shelby.”
The kind’s lower lip trembled, and thick tears rolled down her cheeks.
Her face falling, Hannah edged away. She wrapped her arms around herself as Shelby returned to her playing when Daniel stood by the tub again.
“How am I going to take care of her when she hates me?” Hannah murmured.
“She doesn’t hate you. She’s scared, and she’s known me longer.”
“Two minutes! That doesn’t make sense.”
“Just as it doesn’t make sense she doesn’t like you. Who knows what goes on in the heads of bopplin?” He shampooed Shelby’s hair, taking care not to get suds in her eyes. He’d stop at his brother’s grocery store and get some shampoo made for boppli before he returned to work on the bridge tomorrow.
At that thought, he said, “I’ll make you a deal, Hannah.” He began to rinse Shelby’s fine hair. “You help me by moving the bees, and I’ll help you learn how to take care of Shelby. In addition, I’ll do all I can to find your daed.”
“How will you find Daed?”
“I can ask the police—”
She shook her head. “It’s not our way to involve Englischers in our business.”
“It may need to be if you want to know the truth about your daed.”
“I don’t know.” She dragged the reluctant words out.
“If the bishop says it’s okay, will you?” He hated backing her into a corner, but she must see that they needed help in the extraordinary situation.
Hannah nodded, but didn’t speak.
Knowing he shouldn’t push her further, he lifted the kind out and wrapped her in a towel before her wiggling sent water all over the bathroom. He watched Hannah’s face, knowing she wished he’d walked away as he had before. But she needed his help. And he needed hers. None of the men he’d hired would get close to the bridge supports while the bees were there.
Putting Shelby on the floor, he grabbed for the unopened bag. He couldn’t reach it.
“What do you need?” Hannah asked.
Your agreement to move the bees, he wanted to say, but didn’t. She was upset, and he didn’t want to make her feel worse. “A diaper.”
She opened the bag and frowned. “Um...”
“Let me look.” He took the bag, and with a smile, he pulled out a disposable diaper. He diapered the toddler and pulled a warm shirt and trousers from the counter to dress her.
Hannah handed him a pair of socks. “I’m sorry. I’ve only seen cloth diapers before.”
“It’s okay.” He hesitated, then said, “If you want, I can take her to our house. My mamm will watch her.”
“No!”
“Are you sure?”
“Ja. My daed could come back. She needs to be here when he does.”
Daniel didn’t argue, though he had his doubts any man who abandoned two daughters would return. “Did you see how I put the diaper on her?”
“Ja. It’s easy.”
“It is. As you’re going to need my help with her, what do you say? Do we have a deal? I’ll help you with Shelby as well as try to find your daed, and you’ll move the bees for me. Do we have a deal?”
“All right, Daniel,” she said as if agreeing to a truce with her worst enemy. He flinched, hoping she didn’t consider him that. He knew he’d have time to find out when she went on, “It’s a deal.”
Chapter Two
As soon as the words agreeing to the plan with Daniel left her lips, Hannah wanted to take them back. But how could she turn aside his help? Looking at the little girl perched on Daniel’s knee while he sat on the edge of the tub, Hannah knew she needed his assistance. Her great-grandmother might want to help, but the elderly woman was fragile. Grossmammi Ella couldn’t chase an active toddler. Though nothing had ever been said, Hannah often wondered if her grossmammi resented having a ten-year-old dumped on her to raise.
“Gut,” Daniel said as he shifted Shelby into his arms as he stood.
He avoided Hannah’s eyes, and she couldn’t meet his either. Suddenly the bathroom seemed as small as a phone shack.
It seemed to shrink farther when he went on, “I’m glad you’re willing to be sensible about this, Hannah. After all, what happened in the past is best left there.”
“I agree.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but she wanted to put an end to this strained conversation. She couldn’t imagine how their “deal” would work. Daniel might be able to leave the past in the past, but she wasn’t sure she could. A heated aura of humiliation surrounded her whenever she thought of how he’d dumped her without an explanation.
Shelby chirped and tugged at his hair, interrupting Hannah’s bleak thoughts. A kind depended on her. For that reason—and to protect a hive of what she hoped were healthy honeybees—she would work with Daniel. She wouldn’t trust him. She’d learned her lesson.
Hearing a soft chime from the timer on the kitchen stove, Hannah gathered the wet towel and washcloth. She tossed them in the tub and ignored Daniel’s surprise when she left them there.
“Do you have something in the oven?” he asked.
“No. My great-grandmother sets the timer every afternoon before going to rest in her room. About fifteen minutes after it chimes, she’ll come out. I try to have a cup of tea ready for her.
“I should get going then.”
“But the bees—”
He pointed toward the window where water ran down the glass. “Let’s put that off until the rain stops. We can go tomorrow morning.”
“That makes sense.” At least one thing had today. Everything else, from Daniel’s appearance at her door to the idea her daed might have been there moments before, had been bizarre and painful. Why hadn’t Daed knocked on the door?
A fresh wave of grief struck her as hard as the rain battered the window. Had Daed thought she wouldn’t want to see him? Or did he think Grossmammi Ella would refuse to let him in? Hannah would have talked with hi
m on the porch. She wouldn’t have been able to hug him while he was under the bann, but she would have welcomed him home and asked him why he’d left her behind. Why hadn’t he come home? And, when he did, why did he leave Shelby without letting Hannah know he was there?
“If you need anything before I come back,” Daniel said, “let me know.”
She frowned. “How? I can’t leave a toddler and my great-grandmother here alone.”
“My brother has a phone in the barn. I’ll give you the number.”
“Danki.” She regretted snapping at him. She couldn’t let dismay with her daed color her conversations with others. Maybe Daniel was right. Leaving the past in the past was a gut idea. “Our Englisch neighbors let me use their phone when it’s necessary. We should be okay. There are plenty of diapers and clothing in the bag for tonight.”
“Gut.” He left the bathroom.
Suddenly there seemed to be enough oxygen to take a breath, and Hannah sucked in a quick one. She needed to get herself on an even keel if Daniel was visiting for the next few days. How long would it take to learn how to take care of Shelby? Not that long, she was sure.
Her certainty wavered when Daniel paused in the living room and held out Shelby to her. Smiling and cooing at the kind, Hannah took her.
The room erupted into chaos when the toddler shrieked at the top of her lungs and reached out toward him, her body stiff with the indignity of being handed off to Hannah.
“Go!” Hannah ordered.
“Are you sure?” Daniel asked.
“Ja.” Stretching out his leaving would just upset everyone more.
Shelby’s crying became heartbreaking as Daniel slipped out and closed the door behind him. She squirmed so hard, Hannah put her down.
Teetering as if the floor rocked beneath her, Shelby rushed to the door. She stretched her hand toward the knob, but couldn’t reach it. Leaning her face against the door, she sobbed.
Hannah was tempted to join her in tears. The sight of the distraught kind shattered her heart. When she took a step forward, wanting to comfort Shelby, the toddler’s crying rose in pitch like a fire siren. Hannah jumped back, unsure what to do. She silenced the longing to call after Daniel and ask him to calm the kind. As soon as he left once more, Shelby might react like this all over again.
Hating to leave the little girl by the door, Hannah edged toward the kitchen. She kept her eyes on Shelby while setting the kettle on the stove to heat. The kind didn’t move an inch while Hannah took out the tea and a cup for her great-grandmother. Nor when Hannah set a handful of cookies on a plate and poured a small amount of milk into a glass.
The first thing to put on her list of what she’d need for the kind: plastic cups. Maybe she could find some with tops so Shelby could drink without spilling. Or was Hannah getting ahead of herself? She didn’t know if the little girl could drink from a cup.
The door to the downstairs bedroom opened. Her great-grandmother, Ella Lambright, leaned one hand on the door frame. She’d left her cane in the bedroom. Her steps were as unsteady as Shelby’s. Unlike the kind, her face was lined from many summers of working in her garden. She wore a black dress, stockings and shoes as she had every day since her husband died two years before Hannah’s parents had wed.
Hannah rushed to assist her great-grandmother to the kitchen table. The old woman took a single step, then paused as another wail came from beside the front door.
“Who is that?” Grossmammi Ella said in her wispy voice. The strings on her kapp struck Hannah’s cheek as she turned her head to look at the sobbing toddler. The elderly woman’s white hair was as thin and crisp as the organdy of her kapp. She actually was Hannah’s daed’s grossmammi.
“Her name is Shelby.”
“That isn’t a plain name.” Her snowy brows dropped into a scowl. “And she isn’t wearing plain clothes. What is an Englisch kind doing here?”
“Sit, and I’ll explain.”
“Who was that I saw driving away? What did he want here?”
“One thing at a time.” Hannah had grown accustomed to Grossmammi Ella’s impatience. In many ways, her great-grandmother’s mind had regressed to the level of a toddler’s. Impatient, jumping from one subject to another and with no apparent connection of one thought to the next, focused on her own needs. “That’s what a wise woman told me.”
“Foolish woman, if you ask me,” Grossmammi Ella muttered.
Hannah assisted her great-grandmother to sit. Now wasn’t the time to mention the wise woman had been Grossmammi Ella. Saying that might start an argument because the old woman could be quarrelsome when she felt frustrated, which was often lately.
Hoping she wouldn’t make matters worse, Hannah went to Shelby. She knelt, but didn’t reach out to the toddler. “Shelby?” she whispered.
The little girl turned toward her, her earth-brown eyes like Hannah’s. Heated trails of tears curved along her full cheeks, and her nose was as red as the skin around her eyes. Averting her face, the kind began to suck her thumb while she clung to the door.
Hannah waited, not saying anything. When Shelby’s eyes grew heavy, the toddler slid to sit and lean her face against the door. The poor little girl was exhausted. Hannah wondered when the kind had last slept.
When Shelby’s breathing grew slow, Hannah slipped her arms around the toddler. Shelby stiffened, but didn’t waken as Hannah placed her on the sofa. Getting a small quilt, Hannah draped it over the little girl.
Straightening, Hannah went to sit beside her great-grandmother. Patting Grossmammi Ella’s fragile arm, she began to explain what had happened while the old woman was resting. The story sounded unbelievable, but its proof slept on the sofa.
When her great-grandmother asked what Hannah intended to do now, Hannah said, “I don’t know.”
And she didn’t. She hoped God would send her ideas of how to deal with the arrival of an unknown sister, because she had none.
* * *
Reuben Lapp’s place wasn’t on Daniel’s way home to the farm where he’d lived his whole life, but he turned his buggy left where he usually turned right and followed the road toward where the sun was setting through the bank of clouds clinging to the hills. It was growing chilly, a reminder winter hadn’t left. At least, the rain hadn’t turned to sleet or snow.
He’d promised Hannah that he’d help her find out where her daed was. Hannah had been willing—albeit reluctantly—for him to speak with Reuben and get the bishop’s advice.
Why didn’t she want to use every method possible to find her daed? Daniel was sure she was as curious as he was about why Shelby had been left on the porch. Yet, she’d hesitated when he mentioned locating her daed.
Why?
You could have asked her. His conscience refused to let him ignore the obvious, but he had to admit that Hannah had her hands full when he left. As he closed the Lambrights’ door, he’d heard Shelby begin to cry in earnest. He’d almost gone back in, stopping himself because he wanted to get the search for her daed started as soon as possible.
Propane lamps were lit in the bishop’s large white house when Daniel arrived. He drove past the house and toward the whitewashed barns beyond it. Odors of overturned earth came from the fields. Reuben must be readying them for planting, using what time he had between storms.
Stopping the buggy, Daniel jumped out and walked to the biggest barn where the animals were stabled on the floor above the milking parlor. Through the uneven floorboards, he could hear the cows mooing. The bishop’s buggy team nickered as he walked past. Several mules looked over the stall doors, their brown eyes curious if he’d brought treats. He patted each one’s neck, knowing they’d had a long day in the fields spreading fertilizer.
He didn’t slow as he went down the well-worn steps to the lower floor. The cows stood in stanchions, and the rhythm of the milking mac
hine run by a diesel generator in the small, attached lean-to matched his footsteps.
Reuben, a tall man who was muscular despite his years, stood up from between a pair of black-and-white cows. He held a milk can in each hand. The bishop’s thick gray beard was woven with a piece of hay, but Daniel didn’t mention it as he greeted the older man.
“You’re here late,” Reuben said in his deep voice.
“I’d like to get your advice.”
The bishop nodded. “I need to put this milk in the dairy tank.” He motioned for Daniel to follow him through a doorway.
“Let me take one.”
“Danki, but they’re balanced like this.” He hefted the milk cans with the strength of a man half his age.
Reuben had been chosen by the lot to be their bishop before Daniel was born. His districts were fortunate to have his gentle, but stern wisdom as well as his dedication to his responsibilities as their bishop. It wasn’t an easy life for a man with a family to support, because those selected by the lot to serve weren’t paid.
When Reuben went to the stainless steel tank where the milk was kept cold by the diesel engine, Daniel opened the top and checked that the filter was in place. He stepped back so Reuben could pour the milk in. As soon as both cans were empty, Reuben lifted out the filter and closed the top. He set the filter in a deep soapstone sink to clean later.
Wiping his hands on a ragged towel, Reuben said, “I hear you’ve got a new job. Fixing the Hunter’s Mill Creek Bridge.”
“Word gets around fast.” He chuckled.
“The Amish grapevine is efficient.”
Daniel had to smile. For people who didn’t use telephones and computers at home, news still managed to spread through the district. He wondered how long it would take for his neighbors to learn about Shelby. News of a kind being left on the Lambrights’ front porch was sure to be repeated with the speed of lightning.
“I went out to the bridge today,” Daniel said. “No work can be done until some bees are removed.”
