by Trisha Telep
“No, that cannot be. She said goodbye to Susie. You did not know until just now in my kitchen. How could it be your fault? She did it herself.”
He raised an angry hand to stop her from speaking the vile word. Suicide. The only explanation possible, and yet she knew he would not accept it, not even to free himself of blame. “I knew she was afraid after we saw the doctor. I knew. And still, after she slept – or so I thought – I went to the barn to check on a mare about to foal and I stayed to deliver her.”
“Any responsible farmer would have done as much.”
“A good farmer maybe, but a selfish man for certain. I wanted to think about anything but the fact that my wife was dying. I wanted to pretend life was normal, not filled with the dread of a slow and painful death. Naomi was young and beautiful. She should not have died that way. She should still be alive and—” Wishing she had married another man, Caleb nearly said.
Was that why he had let Naomi down? Because the only thing she ever felt for him was disappointment because he was not someone else?
He looked full at Hannah then. “Someday Susie is going to figure out that her mother . . . that Naomi seems to have chosen . . .” He covered his face again and rubbed briskly, as if he could wash the truth away. “What will I tell her?”
“You could tell her that her mother’s pain might have driven her beyond rational thought. That God forgives. He forgave you, Caleb, if absolution was your due, though I suspect it was not. Now you must forgive yourself.”
With a hand to her face, Caleb turned Hannah so he could see her better. “I think I am not the only one who needs to forgive myself.”
She must know that her blush spoke volumes, because she tried to pull away. So he would not read her? Or because she did not care for his touch? He wished he knew.
“Want to tell me about it?” he asked. “You know my worst secret.” He used to think his biggest secret was the fact that he had married a woman who did not love him, who was forced by her father to marry him. But it was not so simple as that. He had been certain he would fill Naomi so full of love that she would not be able to help loving him in return. He paid dearly and daily for being that young and foolish.
Hannah shook her head and slipped from his grasp. “We should go in before Susie wakes.”
“Someday, you will share your pain with me,” Caleb said. “It does lessen it, as you said. Danke. You are a good neighbor.”
“And a better cook than you, I hear.”
As she intended, he chuckled. “Ach, that too.” They rose together, but he stopped, caught by the bench. When he tried to free himself, something ripped loudly.
“I am sorry,” Hannah said. “Abe doesn’t do carpentry so well anymore. His eyes are going. What was it?”
“Are you as good at mending torn britches as you are at cooking?”
“I am. Are you still decently covered?”
“Near enough. Why did you want to know?”
She stopped, and Caleb accidently walked into her. To keep them balanced, he grasped her waist from behind. After a minute, during which he savored the feel of her beneath his palms, she opened the door, and his hands slipped away as she stepped inside.
“I asked because I thought you might want to wait outside while I got Susie,” she said.
“Oh. Too bad.”
Hannah shook her head but kept walking. “I darn socks too, big and little ones. I miss such chores. You would not have some for me, would you? It would be a great comfort, if you did.”
Caleb caught her hand. “I am rich with socks to darn.” He squeezed the hand and let go before they reached her room. “I will take my sometimes noisy little girl and go home now. See you at school tomorrow.”
“Ya, see you,” she said, tucking her quilt around Susie in his arms. “Do not forget your paints,” she said following them.
Outside, Hannah smiled when Caleb charged his horse Indigo to “fly like the wind”. As she watched his buggy disappear into the barn at the top of the rise, she could still feel his big strong hands warm at her waist. She pulled her shawl tight and sat on the hickory swing until Caleb emerged from the barn carrying Susie. He waved before going into his house.
For the first time in four years, Hannah almost wished she still lived there. What would it be like to sit with Caleb in harmony of an evening, or to step with him into a shared bedroom at the end of a day?
She did not think he would be sullen or turn on his side, away from her, in the bed. She already knew he did not eat in aching silence, ignoring her good food. Ignoring her.
“Foolishness,” she said aloud. “What makes you think you would be a better wife to anyone than you were to Gideon?” There must have been a reason he was so unhappy, that his last words were a scold.
Caleb might complain less than Gideon, she thought, but he would likely be as miserable, if he were so foolish as to consider marrying her.
She turned to go inside, but before she did, she looked up the hill one last time.
Was that Caleb or a shadow in the window facing her way?
She noted the next morning that Caleb arrived with mischief in his eyes. “Turns out we have only one set of paints between us,” he said. “Suze and I will have to share.”
Hannah took his hat off his head, because it seemed natural to do so, then she blushed at the familiarity, as if she’d been doing it for ever.
Her ease in his presence could be dangerous to her peace.
It would all end soon, anyway, she told herself, as soon as Susie could stay at school without him. Then everything would go safely back to normal . . . but she would always hold these days dear.
Before Caleb went to his seat, he regarded her, seeming to ask if he should test Susie by trying to leave this morning. She shook her head imperceptibly and he nodded.
How had they done that, Hannah wondered, spoken without words? She did not remember having the ability with Gideon. But they agreed; Susie was to have an easy and quiet day. Them too.
When school ended, Caleb stopped beside her desk. “How would you feel about having supper at my place tonight? I think Susie could use another evening or two in your company and then she should be fine here. What do you say?”
“Fine,” she said. “What were you thinking of cooking?”
Caleb looked taken aback, but then his eyes began almost to dance. “Bratwurst,” he said. “And noodles.”
They laughed like when the boys jumped him at recess, a squealing pig pile, just because he asked the girls to play corner ball with them.
“How about roast and slaw with cherry pie for dessert?” Hannah asked. “Can you cook that?”
Caleb paled.
Hannah rapped his knuckles with her ruler, lightly, just for fun.
He yelped, loud.
She shook her head. “You are as bad as the little ones. I will do the cooking, and I will help you wash Susie’s hair.”
“I washed it last night.”
“Ya, I can tell; you left too much soap in. That’s why it is more like hay than hair this morning. Six o’clock,” she said as another parent came in, a woman known to gossip, and plenty. Lord, it would be all over the district tomorrow that Caleb hung around the school.
Seven
“Teacher does it nice, Datt,” Susie said, from a washtub in their new kitchen before a roaring fire. She pushed her father’s big hard-scrubbing hands aside and pulled Hannah’s gentle ones back to her hair. “And she doesn’t get soap in my eyes.”
Hannah raised a brow Caleb’s way before she went back to tending his daughter. Then she bent and whispered something in Susie’s ear.
Distracted by their conspiring giggles, Caleb did not expect his daughter’s cupped hands to become a ladle for throwing water his way, until it was too late.
The shock of it made him jump back, and slip in the puddle on the floor. Grabbing Hannah for support, he toppled them both, him on his back, her on top of him.
Susie, in the washtub beside them, s
hrieked when he started falling, as did Hannah, but now they were all stunned silent. Noting the tears in Susie’s eyes, he winked to reassure her. He grunted and removed Hannah’s knee from between his legs, grateful nothing important got bruised, and then he lifted her face from his chest. “Teacher likes to play, I see.”
He plotted retribution as he tried not to tumble headlong into the bottomless depths of her wide sky-blue eyes.
Hannah knelt beside him. “I—Oh, Caleb, I—” Her sobs came fast and from so deep inside. Then he was rocking and shushing her while juggling his slippery daughter in a towel as she joined Hannah in his arms. All three on the floor.
Together they tried to calm Hannah and, while she accepted hugs and kisses, even his, absolution she would not accept.
There on the kitchen floor in a cool puddle of soapy water, the confession of Hannah’s “flighty” ways came tumbling out. “I laugh and play too much,” she said. “I sing at all the wrong times. My behavior is unseemly, disgraceful.”
Caleb’s rage at Gideon Barkman grew. “Whoever convinced you of this had no more right to stifle you than a nightingale,” Caleb declared. “Your joy in life is as God-given and beautiful as any creature’s song.”
“Not joy, frivolity, Caleb. I almost killed you with it. I did kill Gideon and Gracie.”
“You most certainly did not!”
Hannah nodded, her eyes overflowing. “I distracted Gideon with my singing and when he turned to scold me, the horse slipped on the ice and he could not—” Sobbing, she returned to his embrace.
He might like having her in his embrace, if the reason were not so sad and regrettable. If it did not make him so angry. “Sounds like his temper did the damage,” Caleb said, stroking her back, “but until you see it, no good will come of my saying so. I would drive better with you singing beside me,” he said. “I could do anything better that way.” And to prove it, Caleb sang as he rocked her in his arms, a song about forgiveness and love.
He liked having her there so much he sang it twice.
After a while, he gave her his schnoopduff, his handkerchief, and when she dried her eyes, they found his singing had put Susie to sleep.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Hannah asked him, seeming as loath to rise from his embrace as he was to have her leave, no matter their foolish spot on the floor.
“We nearly bruised my . . . dignity.”
That incited a smile from her as they rose from the floor.
Susie got tucked in and never even woke for supper. She needed sleep more.
Alone together, the kitchen warm and cosy, dinner conversation flowed, pleasant and relaxing, until he asked the question uppermost on his mind. “Do you think you will marry again?”
Hannah rose to clear the dishes. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you are young and pretty.”
She blushed. “Goodness. No one has ever said such a thing.”
“That you are pretty? How could they not?”
She shrugged. “We are Amish. Looks do not count with us, or have you forgotten?”
“A man notices. It is in his nature to do so, no matter his upbringing. He sees what is on the outside before he decides whether to look at the inside.”
“You are looking for another wife, then?”
Caleb groaned. “Frankly, I cannot bear to fail another.”
“I feel the same,” she said.
Did she mean that she did not want to fail again, either? If not, it might be better, he thought, if they stopped having supper together, better for both of them. On the other hand, if she did not care to remarry, he was safe with her.
“Ah,” Hannah said, raising her chin. “Here he is, come to prove my lie.” Then she hid her emotions. “The bishop will not allow me to remain single. I have two months of freedom left, and I intend to enjoy it.”
“What happens after two months?”
She stepped out to the porch, and Caleb followed. “I marry Enos Miller. Bishop’s orders. Down the road, he comes now. Enos, not the bishop.”
A yellow buggy pulled into Dovecrest Farm, its driver using the horsewhip more than Caleb approved. “He’s eighty if a day!”
Hannah shook her head. “Seventy-three.”
Anger filled Caleb. “You love him?”
“Of course not. But I will not die inside when he dies, which must be soon. I could not bear the pain when I lost Grace and Anyah.”
No mention of Gideon, Caleb noticed.
“Hannah!” Enos Miller called, as he tied the horse to the post. “You are not at your small house at such an hour, yet I find you here with this stranger!” And the louder he talked, the higher Hannah raised her shoulders and the lower she bent her head.
“Did the bishop choose Gideon for you?” Caleb whispered so Enos would not hear.
“Yes,” Hannah whispered. Her submissive reaction looked natural, in an unnatural sort of way.
“Enos is Gideon all over again, is he not?”
She forgot to cower when she looked up at him, her surprise genuine.
“Notice that you do not shrink in my presence,” he snapped. And his heart came to life with a vengeance, for the first time in years. “We will see who you marry in two months’ time,” he said, before he turned to go back in the house and shut the door behind him.
He had all but dismissed them both. Caleb was appalled, at himself, at Hannah, at all of it. Who was this harsh bishop?
The following day, a warmish spring-is-coming Saturday, Caleb played checkers on the country store porch while Susie slept in the buggy at the hitching post. There, Caleb learned that Hannah’s farm money went to pay the largest of Gideon Barkman’s debts. He learned also that Enos Miller was some big mad, because he’d expected Hannah to bring the proceeds of Dovecrest Farm to their marriage.
Instead, she would carry a bouquet of small Barkman debts.
Caleb quit the checker game when he saw Hannah heading toward the store. He met her, apologized for his anger the night before and offered to carry her packages.
His public attention flustered her but she did not cower.
“Hannah, what kind of bulbs did you plant that first day?” he asked as they walked.
“Jonquils, for forgiveness,” she said. “They are like tiny daffodils. But they will not flower. They never do.”
He regarded her quizzically. “Forgiveness?”
“I could not bear to work the farm after I lost them,” she whispered, looking earnestly up at him. “I am not even a good widow.”
In the wake of the indiscreet revelation, Hannah raised her chin, reclaiming her dignity and giving him a glimpse of her stubbornness, which he liked. He appreciated her honest emotions with him.
Unfortunately, she firmly believed in her uselessness as a wife – because her husband had told her so.
Yes, those checker players, those old men with the wise-looking pipes, and white beards, had had much to say. In fact, they’d taken great pleasure in bringing him up to date on the business of his neighbors.
There are many sins the Amish avoid. Gossip is not one of them. It is, in fact, their greatest entertainment.
Normally, he would not listen to it, but this was Hannah Peachy, and whether either of them wanted the connection or not, she had worked her way to a place very near his heart.
Eight
The next morning at school, after another bit of silent conversation, he and Hannah agreed that Caleb would try to leave.
He kissed Susie’s little nose. “This is it, Susiekins. I am going to buy a plow for the farm today while you stay in school and learn many new things. Before long you will read to me of an evening.”
A tear slid down his daughter’s china cheek, but she did not make a fuss. Caleb’s throat tightened as he closed the schoolhouse door behind him. After he climbed into his buggy and took up the reins, he stayed there, watching, waiting for the moment he would be called upon to rescue her – foolish him – until Hannah came to the window.
She
looked both sorry and reassuring, but she made a shooing motion to tell him to go away and leave everything to her; Susie would be fine. His heart expanded as he got Sparky moving, lazy horse, and made his way toward Mt Hope and the day’s farm equipment auction. Afterward, he would go to Sugarcreek to check on the track-laying, then to the brick factory so he could build a smokehouse.
In Sugarcreek, he met Old Abe Hershberger, whose wife, Ida, asked him to supper. She was friendly and honestly seemed to want his company, so he said he would be there. One of the older schoolgirls, who Susie liked, had offered to sit with Susie if he ever needed her, and he would accept her offer.
Ida’s invitation reminded him of the Pennsylvania matchmakers, but he was so new, this couldn’t be the same thing.
No matter how many errands he had to run, Caleb couldn’t wait to get back to Dove Hollow to see how Susie had managed. He supposed he should be glad they were not all eating together again tonight. It would be best if they did not become so easy that Susie would come to expect it, as if they were a family, only to have Hannah leave them for Enos. The thought rankled him, though it was probably best.
His daughter did not need to be kicked by life again and he did not need to fail anyone else.
Every morning for the next two weeks, Susie went quietly, if listlessly, into school alone. By the third day, Hannah stopped coming to the window to wave him off. That day, he waited outside to collect Susie. Everything back to normal. Goot. He did not like surprises.
Yes, he missed adult conversation. Yes, Susie missed Hannah’s attention, especially hair washing, but they were fine, the two of them. They did not need a woman to change things, not even Hannah.
Hannah – he should not think of her in so intimate a way. She should not be the first person he thought about upon opening his eyes, nor the last when he pulled her dratted quilt up to his chin and closed them. He should not be dreaming of her.
He should put her quilt away and never think of her sharing it with Gideon. He especially hated imagining her sharing a quilt with Enos. He did not want to think of her at all, except that he did nothing but since he stopped seeing her.
