A Son's Vow (3 page)

H
annah, you can head on home now,” Mrs. Ross said as she entered her spacious living room. Looking like she'd won a big prize, she added, “I was able to convince my boss that he didn't need me for the last meeting of the day.”

Hannah Eicher glanced up at the modern grandfather clock located next to the family's entertainment system. It was a pretty thing, made of metal and bleached wood. It also happened to chime Christmas carols all year long. Mrs. Ross was a fan of the unexpected. “It must have been quite a meeting. You're home almost two hours early.”

“It was going to be long and boring.” Mrs. Ross grimaced. “I told my manager that I'd rather work on a project for a few hours than sit through another interminable meeting. When he agreed, I decided I could work just as easily here as in the office.”

“I'm glad that it worked out for ya.” Hannah got out of the
rocking chair she'd been reading in, absently smoothing one of the ties of her
kapp
over her shoulder as she did so. “I'll get my things together then and get out of your way. Christopher is still napping.”

“How was he today?”

“Wunderbaar.”

Mrs. Ross's pretty green eyes warmed. “That's what I like to hear.”

Hannah giggled. Christopher was all of four months old. He was just a tiny baby. She didn't think it was possible for a baby to ever be anything but wonderful.

Mrs. Ross set down her briefcase next to the couch, then opened up her pocketbook. “Is it all right if I write you a check today? I may work at a bank but I constantly forget to get cash.”

“A check is fine.
Danke
.” She stood patiently as her boss quickly wrote a check, folded it once, and handed it to her. Without glancing at the amount, Hannah placed it in her purse.

“I paid you for the entire time you were scheduled for, dear,” Mrs. Ross said.

“Danke.”
After slipping a plain navy cardigan over her dove-gray dress, she picked up her basket of books and embroidery and placed her small purse inside. “So, I'll see you in two days?”

“Yes. I'm off tomorrow, but I'll need to be back at the bank bright and early the next day.”

“I'll be here at eight then. Enjoy your time with Christopher.”

“I will. You enjoy your day off, too.” For the first time, Mrs. Ross's perky personality faltered. “Are you doing better, Hannah?”

This was why she loved working for Mr. and Mrs. Ross so much. They not only paid her well to watch a sweet-tempered
baby but they were nice. Time and again, they did and said things that made her think they really cared about her.

Because of that, she replied with more honesty than she usually allowed herself to reveal. “I think I'm better. Some days are good, others not so much. But everyone says I'm doing as well as can be expected.”

“Are you sleeping any better?”

“Some.” Last night, she'd gotten almost five hours of sleep before she'd woken up in a cold sweat.

“I didn't know your Paul, of course. But knowing you, I can only imagine that he would want you to move on as best as you can.”

Hannah didn't know what Paul would've wanted. All she knew was that he'd been her boyfriend, then he'd died in the fire at the mill, and now he was gone. “I better get to the bank,” she said, purposely not continuing the conversation. Neither she nor Mrs. Ross wanted her to dissolve into tears. That had already happened once and it had been awkward for them both.

Mrs. Ross's expression softened. “Yes, of course.” She walked across the wooden floor, her black patent-leather high heels making little clicking noises. After opening the door, she gave Hannah a small pat on the shoulder as she walked by. “Good-bye, Hannah. Thank you again.”

“Bye, Mrs. Ross,” she replied with a smile before starting the mile walk to the center of town.

The first time Mr. and Mrs. Ross had learned that Hannah walked back and forth from their house, they'd been very concerned about her safety. Mr. Ross had promptly devised some complicated plan so she could be picked up and brought home daily. Unable to help herself, she'd giggled when he showed it to her.

“This isn't necessary, Mr. Ross. I like walking,” she'd said.

“But it could be dangerous.”

“I don't think so. I've been walking around Charm all my life.” They, on the other hand, had moved from Indianapolis after Mrs. Ross had gotten a promotion. They couldn't imagine living someplace where crime wasn't an issue.

After much discussion, they had ended up compromising. They would drive her in bad weather or if it was dark outside. But so far, that had only happened four or five times.

The truth was that she needed these moments to simply think about things.

She liked her job and she liked the independence it gave her. Being at home with her concerned parents had become extremely trying. They constantly watched her with looks of pity and asked if she needed anything. Though she loved them dearly and was grateful that they cared so much, their inability to see her as anything but Paul's grieving girlfriend was frustrating. Even though it had been only a little over three months, Hannah knew that it was time to move on, even if it hurt.

When she got to the bank on Main Street, Hannah deposited her check and then decided to sit at Josephine's Café for an hour. She could have some tea, eat a cookie or muffin, and read her new book until it was time to go home.

Just as she was about to open the door to the charming café, she saw Aaron Kurtz walking up the sidewalk and braced herself. Aaron and Paul had been friends. Ever since the fire he'd sought her out, as if both of them having lost people they were close to now had something in common. Hannah, on the other hand, felt they had less in common than ever before. While Aaron was
angry and seemed content to dwell on the loss of his father, she simply wanted to move forward.

The moment he saw her, he straightened his shoulders and puffed up his chest a bit. “Good afternoon, Hannah.”

She nodded. “Aaron.” Though it was a bit of a fib, she added, “It is
gut
to see you.”

Immediately, his polite expression disintegrated. “If you think so, you're the only one.”

She didn't want to have this conversation, but there seemed to be no choice. “I'm sorry to hear you so distressed. Did you not have a
gut
day?”

“How can it be good? I'm still working eight hours a day at Kinsingers.”

She winced, hating how he emphasized the Kinsinger name as if it were a terrible curse word. “I got off work a little early myself. As you can see, I'm heading into Josephine's right now. I hope the rest of your day is better.”

His expression cleared. “Hey, wait. Are you meeting anyone?”

She wasn't sure if he was being nosy or hoping to join her. If it was the latter, it wasn't an option. No way was she going to end her pretty good day by listening to him complain about Lukas Kinsinger. “I'm by myself, but I'm planning to read.”

Gesturing to the glass door she was standing in front of, he raised his eyebrows. “You want to sit by yourself at the café? Just to read?”

“It's a real
gut
book.” She smiled weakly. She'd spoken the truth. However, she knew most wouldn't understand. Her family had always thought she read too much. In fact, the only person who had ever seemed to understand how much reading meant to her had been Paul.

“I'm surprised you can read anything, what with Paul gone.”

She refused to feel guilty. “I manage.”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. But it's just that it's so unfair,” he added quickly. Shifting his stance a bit, Aaron shoved his hands in his black wool coat's front pockets. “You and Paul would probably be engaged by now if not for the accident. If I lost Hope, I don't know what I'd do.”

And . . . now she had reached the end of her patience with him. As far as she was concerned, he was being more than cruel to bring up Paul and what her life should have been like.

“I hope you never find out,” she said, and even though she knew it was rude, she opened Josephine's front door right then and walked inside, leaving Aaron to stare after her on the street.

“Hannah Eicher, what a nice surprise!” Josephine, the Mennonite woman whose name graced the café's sign, said with a wide smile. “What brings you in today?”

“Do you have any soup?”

“Tomato basil and potato corn chowder. Either sound good?”

“Tomato,” Hannah replied, already feeling more relaxed. “Any chance you have fresh biscuits, too?”

“Of course I do. I got a batch just out of the oven, as a matter of fact.”

“
Danke
. I'll take two.”

“Coming right up. Go pick a table and I'll bring everything right out. With a Coke?”

“Jah. Danke.”

After picking out a table on the opposite side of the room, far from the only other table that was occupied, Hannah sat down and took a fortifying breath. Thank goodness for this café. It was darling, decorated in a mishmash of antique tables and modern
artwork. All the dishes were from different sets of china, and all the napkins were black and white gingham. None of it looked as if it would match, but it fit well together and never failed to make Hannah smile.

In addition, Josephine was friendly and polite and always had a smile on her face. And today she was the perfect antidote for a conversation with Aaron.

Oh, but that Aaron Kurtz exhausted her! He'd changed so much since the accident. Now it seemed that
everything
bothered him. She'd seen him lose his temper on more than one occasion with his sister Darla, too.

“Was that Aaron Kurtz you were talking to outside?” Josephine asked when she set the bowl of soup, basket of biscuits, and tall glass of Hannah's guilty pleasure on the table.

“Yes.”

After glancing around the room, Josephine sat down in the booth across from her. “How is he doing today?”

Hannah put her napkin in her lap and shrugged. “The same. Angry.” Then, because she had to tell someone, she said, “I think he wanted to join me in here.”

“Really? I thought he and Hope were still courting.”

“He didn't want to flirt with me, Jo. He wanted a captive audience to listen to him complain about Lukas and Levi Kinsinger.”

Jo winced. “I do feel sorry for Aaron, Darla, and the rest of their family. After all, there's no shortage of folks who think it was John Kurtz's fault that the fire started in the first place.”

“I know. But placing blame on someone doesn't help. I am hurting, too, but I don't want to talk about the accident all day, and I surely don't want to stand on the sidewalk and say mean things.”

“That's because you are a nice girl.” Smiling softly, Josephine added, “York and Melissa Ross can't sing your praises enough.”

That news warmed her. “I love watching their
boppli
. Christopher is adorable.”

“Well, they're grateful for you.” Josephine slid out of the booth and said, “Enjoy your soup and your book, Hannah. I'll leave you alone for now.”

“Thanks.” After saying a quick, silent prayer of thanks, she sipped two spoonfuls of soup, ate half a biscuit, then settled in with her newest novel.

There, on the page, Annabeth, the brave and beautiful heroine, was trying to gain a sheriff's attention, but he seemed more concerned with rumors of an Indian attack. As she became engrossed in the story, Hannah thought that Annabeth was the one who really had problems. Big problems, since it seemed they were in need of a good rain to save their corn crop in addition to everything else.

Though it was silly, Hannah drew strength from reading about the characters' hardships. After all, if Annabeth could deal with so much at one time, why there was no doubt that Hannah could find a way to get through each day without falling to pieces.

She sure hoped so.

All she knew was that she had to continue to try. She made a vow right then and there to avoid Aaron Kurtz as much as possible. She needed happiness in her life, not more anger and stress.

She just hoped that she, too, would find happiness one day.

H
ey,
shveshtah
. You're home a little late,” Aaron called out to Darla from his position in front of the mailbox.

As she approached the foot of their driveway, Darla forced herself not to hesitate. If she did, Aaron would wonder what was wrong and then he would badger her until he got the information he wanted. Once again, she wished things could go back to how they used to be. Before the fire, before their mother had left, Aaron had been far more easygoing.

And far less interested in her personal life.

“I am home a little late, but only by an hour.” She shrugged, struggling to pretend that she wasn't still smarting from both Mary Troyer's latest scolding and her conversation with Lukas. If Aaron discovered either of those incidents had taken place, it would likely send him into a tailspin. “I had a rush of customers just minutes before four. Things were so hectic, I decided to take the long way home so I could decompress.”

“Hmph.”

Though she dreaded his response, she forced herself to ask the obvious. “Why are you home already?” He should have only been clocking out now.

Looking her way, he lowered the brim of his straw hat. It now shielded his eyes, preventing her from seeing his expression. “It was quiet at work. Real quiet. They didn't really need me so I clocked out.”

That didn't make much sense. She knew from both their father's long career at the mill and her friendship with Lukas that things rarely ever quieted down. Plus, Aaron usually took advantage of the van service that the Kinsingers Mill offered their Amish employees. If he'd left early, he would have had to walk home.

But instead she said, “It's nice they let you do that.”

He straightened. “They didn't
let
me do anything. “I simply told my team leader that I was leaving. I said my time could be better served out here around the farm than doing next to nothing at the mill.”

With their
daed
gone, he wasn't wrong about there being a lot of work to do. Her father had been busy from sunup to sunset, repairing and maintaining almost everything on their land. Now, because their twin brothers were only fourteen and not quite able to do much without supervision, the bulk of the labor fell on Aaron's shoulders, just as the responsibility for taking care of their youngest siblings fell on Darla's and Patsy's shoulders.

But that said, it was painfully obvious that Aaron had not inherited their father's work ethic. It was also hard to believe that the Kinsinger brothers had decided to start allowing their employees to leave whenever they wanted to.

“So you are repairing the mailbox?”

“
Jah
. I noticed that this post was listing to one side. I thought I'd fix it before you got out here and attempted to make it better.” After a beat, he added, “We both know that you would have only made it worse.”

His criticism stung, but she forced herself to be grateful that he hadn't been too harsh. “I wouldn't have tried to dig another posthole, Aaron.” But she might have if Aaron had waited much longer to fix it. Their home was her source of pride. It bothered her that her other siblings never seemed to care about keeping up the house as much as she did. Daed had used to say that she and he were cut from the same cloth. Now, Darla was hoping that one of the twins or Maisie or Gretel would show that they were cut from that cloth, too.

“You are constantly getting into things you shouldn't. You need to leave the hard work to me.”

“Thanks for fixing it so quickly.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “So quickly? What do you mean by that?”

Tensing, she took a step back. “Nothing.”

“This
just
started listing to one side.” His tone was clipped. Defensive.

“I know.” Well, it had begun tilting a couple of days ago. More like a week. She'd actually been trying to figure out the best time to ask Aaron to work on it, but lately, he was always exhausted. He'd also become increasingly short-tempered and took offense at things that never used to bother him. It seemed he found almost everything she did to be annoying.

When they were younger, he'd often joked with her and teased her about her persnickety ways. Now she sometimes wondered if he even remembered how to laugh.

After smoothing the packed dirt around the post, he picked up the pail he'd been using to hold all his tools, and led the way back to the house. She followed slowly behind.

“So you're going to keep your thoughts to yourself today? You're not going to continue to pester me about why I left work in the first place?”

“You already told me your reasoning.”

“
Jah
, but you rarely listen to me.”

“That isn't true.”

Straightening, he glared at her. “You know it is. Don't pick fights with me, Darla. You won't win,” he said, his voice hard. When she simply stared at him, he breathed in deeply. “Just so you know, I left work early because I've got some news to share.”

Darla adjusted her quilted floral backpack that was hanging loosely off one shoulder and eyed Aaron carefully. But she knew better than to push, so she stood still and waited.

“You look about to complain yet again,” he muttered under his breath. “Ever the mother hen.”

Darla knew that he meant that as a criticism, but she didn't actually take it as such. Since she was the eldest, she did feel like a mother hen. And though she'd always felt the need to take care of her siblings, now she had no choice. Ever since their mother had taken off, Darla knew someone had to be the person her siblings could count on. Someone needed to keep tabs on little seven-year-old Gretel, twelve-year-old Maisie, and most especially her busy, into-everything fourteen-year-old twin brothers. Of course, Patsy helped, too. But lately, her twenty-two-year-old sister seemed far more intent on finding a husband than being a mother figure to a bunch of siblings.

Pushing away the frustration, Darla smiled at her brother who, for once, seemed in a reasonably happy mood. “So, are you going to ever share your big news with me?”

“I've actually got two things to share.” He took a deep breath. “First, Hope said yes.”

“Said yes to what?”

“To marriage, of course.”

“You proposed to Hope?” Darla asked weakly. He'd been courting Hope off and on for years, since they were barely teenagers, but he'd never acted ready for marriage. Now seemed like the worst time to get engaged; their family was in pain, his behavior was erratic, and he was having a difficult time with most everyone in town.

“I decided there was no point in waiting any longer,” he said with an awkward smile.

“But it's only been ninety-nine days,” she blurted before realizing that it was exactly the
wrong
thing to say.

He glared. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Though she knew she was liable to regret speaking her mind, she continued. After all, someone had to safeguard their father's memory and that included observing a mourning period. “We are all still recovering from Daed's passing. You know that.”

“Daed's passing? You mean Daed's
murder
. You need to call it what it was.”

“The fire was an accident, Aaron. An accident.”

Tossing the pail on the ground, he stepped forward, his hands clenched into fists. “I'm sick of you defending the Kinsingers, Darla.”

“I'm not defending them—” She was only trying to get him to see that there were two sides to every story.

“I'm tired of feeling like you're always on their side instead of with the rest of the family.”

“I'm always on our family's side—”

“Here I finally have some good news for all of us, and you can't even allow yourself to focus on it. Instead, you have to bring up the mill.” His voice rose. “I canna wait for the day I say good-bye to that place.”

Say good-bye? He intended to quit his job at the mill? “I wasn't bringing up the mill, only Daed's memory. Are you . . . are you truly planning to quit?”

“I am. As soon as I marry Hope, I'm going to quit and farm her land.” He stepped closer. Now he was towering over her, intimidating her. “You can't even unbend enough to tell me congratulations.”

“Of course I wish you the best.”

“You better. And I better not hear you ever say anything so rude to Hope.”

“I would never be rude to her.”

“Just me, huh?” he asked, his voice thick with bitterness.

“Aaron—”

He clenched her slim shoulder with a heavy hand, stopping her words, and squeezed, pushing painfully into the muscles and no doubt leaving five fingerprint-shaped bruises.

Ignoring her gasps of pain, he shook her. “Don't tell me what to do, Darletta.” After glaring at her again, he turned and strode toward the barn.

Still trying to overcome the burst of pain radiating down her arm, Darla watched him go. She hadn't thought it was possible, but she now felt even more distraught about her life. It had been a horrible day and it was almost certainly about to get worse.

“Lord,” she whispered. “How much more do you intend for me to take?”

March 21

“Aaron, this is a mighty nice surprise,” Hope said as she stepped outside the fabric and notion shop where she worked three days a week. “I didn't expect to see you until tomorrow.”

Feeling more than a little foolish all of a sudden, Aaron shrugged and attempted to sound composed. “I decided to pay you a quick visit since you were on my mind.”

“Like I said, it's a nice surprise.” Her smile wavered as she bit her bottom lip. “How were you able to come over? I thought you were working today.”

“I am. This is my lunch.”

“Shouldn't you be eating?”

Why was she asking him so many questions? “I, uh, ate most of my lunch during my first fifteen-minute break.”

“Ah.” She folded her hands in front of her. The contrast of her pretty skin against the cornflower-blue dress and apron only emphasized her beauty. It also highlighted what he found so appealing about Hope. She looked peaceful and sweet. To him, Hope was the perfect girl.

From the first moment he'd spied her sitting across the aisle at school, Aaron had thought she was the best girl he'd ever met. Now that she had consented to be his wife, he could hardly believe his good fortune.

He just hoped he didn't lose her to his mood swings and anger.

“Aaron,” she said gently after another few seconds. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Because you, um . . . Well, you keep staring at me.”

Feeling his neck flush, he averted his eyes. “Sorry. I was just standing here thinking how glad I am that you said yes.”

Her light brown eyes warmed. “Surely you weren't surprised. We've been courting for two years now.” Lowering her voice, she added, “To be honest, my
mamm
was starting to wonder when you were ever gonna ask.”

“I had to be sure.”

“About me?” She looked hurt.

“Of course not, Hope. I was talking about me.” He was talking about his temper and how he was having such a difficult time containing it.

She peered at him closely. “What about you? Is something wrong?”

“
Nee
,” he blurted. “I'm fine.” And he was—well, as fine as he could be with everything that was happening in his life. There was only so much a man could take at one time, and he'd reached his limit weeks ago.

“Aaron, what is it?”

“All I meant is that things around our
haus
have changed.”

The faint lines of worry on her forehead eased. “Oh. Well,
jah
, to be sure, much has changed. But I think much is also the same. You're still Aaron. Right?” Reaching out, she ran one slender finger down the folds of his coat.

Underneath the fabric, goose bumps rose on his skin. All it took was one touch from her and he was transformed. When he was near her, he was calmer. Happier. Better.

It seemed Hope was his exception. With everyone else, he couldn't hide his anger and grief. With everyone else, he felt vulnerable. Hope, however, brought out the best in him. Like her name implied, she made him imagine that his future wasn't going to be filled with regrets and disappointments. Instead, with her, it would be possible to find happiness.

“Would you like to come over tonight?” Blushing softly, she said, “We could sit with my parents and talk about the wedding. We could set a date.”

As much as he wanted her to be his forever, he didn't trust himself enough to set a date yet. He'd only asked her on impulse. “As much as I'd love to do that, I should probably stay around the farm. There's always a lot that needs to be done. My family needs me.”

Her smile brightened. “That's why I love you, Aaron. You are always thinking of others and helping your family.”

“I love you, too, Hope,” he said quickly before he gave in to temptation and admitted to her that he hadn't been acting that way at all lately. He'd been selfish and short-tempered. Actually, he'd done so many things he was ashamed of, he doubted the Lord would ever forgive him.

Needing a bit of space between them so he wouldn't catch another hint of her almond-scented shampoo, he took a step backward. “You know what, I'd better get back to work before I clock in late. I'll see ya tomorrow.”

She stepped closer, lifting her chin so she could look at him directly in the eyes. “
Jah
, Aaron. I'll see you
meiya
. I'll even make you a chocolate cake.”

“I'll look forward to it.” He reached out and gently squeezed her slim hand before dropping it.

“Gut.”
After treating him to another beautiful smile, she went back into the store.

He stood for a moment, watching her talk to the women inside. From the way she kept darting glances his way, Aaron knew she was talking about his surprise visit. It was obvious that she was pleased and proud that he'd used his lunch break to see her.