Hannah's Joy (4 page)

She hesitated. He understood, she was sure. As Aunt Paula had said, William was bright enough.

“Anyway, I should say that I didn’t finish school, so I’m not really a qualified speech therapist, but—”

“W-why?” he asked, his gaze steady on her face.

“Why didn’t I finish?” The question had thrown her off her stride. “I . . . Well, I met Travis Conroy.” She tried to smile. “We fell in love and got married, but he was transferred to another army base, so I had to drop out of school to go with him.”

“I’m s-s-sorry. A-about your husband.” The sympathy in his face was so great that it was almost like a touch.

Her throat tightened. Maybe eventually she’d get over that reaction to sympathy, but not yet.

“Thank you.” She shook her head slightly. “I suppose everyone in town knows about me, don’t they? That my husband was killed in the war in Afghanistan, I mean?”

“Maybe n-not everybody,” he said.

The flicker of humor surprised her into a smile. “I guess that sounded self-centered, didn’t it? Well, anyway, even though I don’t have a degree, I do know a little about working with people who stutter. And I wondered if I could help you.”

William’s face tightened into immobility. He had to have guessed where she was headed with this conversation, but he still seemed unprepared for the direct offer. He didn’t say anything, and the very silence pushed her into speech again.

“I’m sure you could find someone more qualified if you were willing to travel to a bigger town, but I’m here in Pleasant Valley. Aunt Paula suggested it, and I know she wouldn’t mind letting me off work a few hours a week to help you. While Jamie is napping in the afternoon, for instance, if that would work for you.”

She had the feeling she was starting to babble, but his continued silence unnerved her. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, whether he was upset by the suggestion, or—

“D-denke,” he said. He stared down at his hands, braced on the worktable, frowning a little. “I d-d-don’t k-know if that’s a g-gut idea.”

She’d thought she might be relieved if William turned her down. Then she would have made the offer but wouldn’t have to follow through. Instead she wanted to bombard him with arguments to persuade him.

“Do you think I wouldn’t be able to help you? Is that it? I can’t guarantee anything, of course, but most stutterers can be helped by therapy. Even learning a few techniques might make it easier for you to express yourself.”

His lips pressed firmly together. It was almost as if—

“Don’t you want to speak more easily?” The question was out before she realized that some might consider it unfeeling.

William shrugged, not looking at her. She recognized the gesture. When she and her classmates had helped in an after-school program at a community center, there’d been one teenager who’d reacted in just that way. They never had gotten through to him.

She didn’t want that to happen with William. The depth of her feeling surprised her. She hardly knew him, and she’d tried to get out of offering assistance. But when it looked as if she’d get her wish, she knew just how much she wanted to help him.

Hannah put her hand on his sleeve, feeling the warmth and strength of the muscles beneath the fabric.

“I’m sorry, William. I shouldn’t have said that. Look, let’s leave it for now. If you decide you want my help, just let me know. Otherwise, I won’t bother you about it.”

Still he didn’t speak. She turned away. That was that, it seemed. She hadn’t wanted to do it anyway. So why was she so upset?

*   *   *

When
Hannah had gone, William lingered in the workshop. He’d have to face Caleb’s and Katie’s questions soon enough, but not yet.

What was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he responded to Hannah’s offer? It was a simple matter to say yes or no. Even he could manage that.

He hadn’t known what to say, and that was the truth. All this time he’d been pleased by her attention when he’d gone into the bakery. It looked as if what he’d thought was interest in him was actually interest in his stutter.

Foolishness on his part anyway, to think an Englisch woman could be attracted to him. No good could come of that. He wasn’t one who could leave his faith behind because of a woman.

The bell on the door downstairs rang, followed by a familiar voice. Isaac. Ready or not, he headed down the stairs.

Isaac glanced at him as he greeted Caleb and Katie. Then he nodded toward the door. “I saw that Englisch woman, Hannah Conroy, leaving. Must be hard on Paula, having her close blood relative be a woman like that.”

The careless words were like a slap. Before William could respond, Katie had planted herself in front of Isaac.

“What exactly do you mean, Isaac? A woman like what?”

Katie’s cheeks were flying red flags, and any smart man would know that meant danger. Katie wasn’t one to stand for what she would be sure to call foolishness, and unkind besides.

Isaac looked startled at a female calling him to order. “Well, I just meant it’s obvious she’s not Mennonite anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s not a perfectly fine woman.” Katie’s voice was crisp.

If William looked at Caleb, he’d probably see laughter in his eyes, so for the sake of family peace, he’d not risk it. Anyway, Katie was handling Isaac better than anyone had in a long time.

“Ja, well, I wouldn’t know. Just seems to me that Paula must be feeling bad, her niece not being in the faith, and married to a soldier, too.” He shook his head. “Well, knowing Hannah’s parents, I’m not surprised.”

“W-w-what about th-them?” William hadn’t realized his oldest brother would be of an age to remember Hannah’s parents.

“Elizabeth was a pretty girl, for sure.” Isaac leaned on the counter, back to being sure of himself. “But spoiled. The baby of the family, the girl coming along after a bunch of boys. As for John Zercher—well, he was a fence-jumper from the day he was born.”

“Amish, wasn’t he?” Caleb frowned, as if trying to remember. “Were they the family that moved out to Ohio after the parents died?”

“Ja, that’s them. John was always trying to get away with things. His parents probably breathed a sigh of relief when he was safely married, even though he went up to the Mennonites to do it. And then just when folks thought he was settled, he goes off to the city with his wife and daughter.”

“Did Hannah and her mother want to go?” Katie’s expression was one of instinctive sympathy.

Isaac shrugged. “They must have, since they stayed away.” He shook his head. “What am I doing, standing here gossiping about old times? I came in to remind William that I need him tomorrow, and maybe the next day, too.” He glanced at Caleb. “Hope that’s not an inconvenience.”

Katie looked as if she were about to speak again, but Caleb beat her to it.

“Seems to me that is for William to decide.” He folded his arms across his chest, looking at William.

“Ach, I don’t need to think twice about that.” Isaac clapped William on the shoulder. “William’s always ready to help me out. He hasn’t forgotten what he owes his family. Or how I stood by him when he was so foolish over Rachel.”

William’s stomach clenched as if he’d been hit, but he managed to keep his face expressionless. Isaac would bring that up, of course, as if William needed help remembering. He’d thought himself in love with Rachel, his other brother’s widow, and he’d done a lot of foolish things while trying to show her how he felt.

Rachel was married to Gideon Zook now, but she still behaved as if he were the little brother he’d always been. She and Gideon had long since forgiven him, as had everyone else. Except, maybe, himself.

“Well, I must get on home.” Isaac’s hand tightened on William’s shoulder. “I’ll see you at supper.”

He nodded. There was nothing else to say.

Katie didn’t seem to agree. The moment the door had closed behind Isaac, she let out an exasperated noise.

“Ach, William, I hate the way you let Isaac boss you around. When are you going to stand up to him?”

Caleb touched her lightly. “That’s not up to us, ain’t so?” He glanced at William. “Did Hannah have a project she wanted us to work on?”

“N-no. N-n-not exactly.” He paused, but there was no reason not to tell them. And he could trust Caleb to give him good advice. “She kn-knows a lot about s-stuttering. Studied it in school, I g-guess. Offered to h-help me.”

“Is that so? Are you going to do it?” Caleb leaned forward, face interested.

William looked away, shrugging.

“Well, are you?” Caleb asked.

“Sounds like a wonderful idea,” Katie added. “How nice of her to think of it.”

William held his silence for a few minutes. “I . . . I d-don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Katie demanded, heedless of Caleb’s hand on her arm.

“Just d-don’t feel r-right about it. Folks might t-talk.” And Hannah, like Rachel, was an older woman with a family already. He didn’t need to make that mistake again.

“I wouldn’t refuse on that account,” Caleb said mildly. “But it’s up to you.” He gave Katie a quelling look when she seemed about to argue.

William shrugged again. “I’m supposed t-to let her know. But I d-don’t think so.”

He headed for the stairs. He’d go back to the workshop and lose himself in the new quilt rack design he was developing. That was the best thing for him.

But he couldn’t help hearing Katie’s remark as he went up the stairs.

“It’s too bad he won’t do it. Getting over his stuttering would be a good thing if it gave William enough of a voice to stand up to Isaac.”

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

S
upper
on Saturday was a relaxing time at Aunt Paula’s. The bakery was closed on Sundays, of course, so there was no need to set bread to rise or start making piecrusts.

“There you are, Jamie.” Aunt Paula set a bowl on the tray of the wooden highchair she’d borrowed for his use. “See how you like chicken and dumplings.”

“He’ll make a mess.” Hannah was resigned to that by now. Jamie had to learn to feed himself, but his efforts didn’t make a pretty sight.

“Ach, that’s fine,” Paula said, sliding into her chair. She bowed her head for a silent prayer.

Hannah followed suit, reaching out to pat Jamie when he started to bang his spoon on the tray. To her surprise, he actually got quiet, only to resume the pounding when the prayer ended.

“Enough,” Hannah said. She took the spoon away. “This is for eating with. See?” She lifted a bite of dumpling with the spoon and advanced it toward his mouth.

Jamie turned his head away, pressing his lips together.

“Komm, now,” Aunt Paula said. “This is gut stuff.” She broke off a piece of dumpling. When he turned at the sound of her voice, she popped it into his mouth.

His threatened wail turned into an expression of pleased surprise, and he took a fistful of dumpling and shoved it into his mouth.

Aunt Paula chuckled. “You see? Gut, ja?”

“Who wouldn’t like this?” Hannah took a forkful of soft dumpling and tender chicken. She had fallen into the habit of eating quickly, knowing that Jamie’s patience for a relaxed supper would be short-lived, but a meal like this deserved more attention.

“Don’t you hurry yourself with eating,” Aunt Paula said. “Tonight I will give Jamie his bath and get him ready for bed, all right? You can have a little break.”

“You don’t need to do that. You work so hard all week, you should—”

“But it will give me pleasure,” Aunt Paula said, interrupting. Her eyes softened when they rested on Jamie, who seemed to be trying to see how much he could fit in his mouth at once. “It has always been a sorrow to me, having no children, knowing there would never be grandchildren to love.” She shook her head, her cheeks flushing. “You’ll think me foolish, talking like this, but having you and Jamie here . . . well, it makes me happy.”

Hannah wiped her eyes. “You’ll have us both crying in a minute. I just wish . . .” She stopped, not sure she wanted to reveal her thoughts.

“What?” Aunt Paula paused, spoon poised over the bowl of freshly made applesauce.

“Do you know that Travis’s father hasn’t seen Jamie since the funeral? He was only three months old then.” She tried to keep the pain from her voice. “I know he and Travis had their differences, and Robert does live clear across the country. But you’d think he’d want more than the pictures I send. His wife passed away when Travis was a teenager, so Jamie is his only family.”

Aunt Paula put out a hand toward Jamie, almost as if wanting to protect him. “It makes no sense to me at all. Surely the quarrel between him and his son was buried with Travis.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Maybe it’s not that. Maybe he’s just not interested.”

“You’ve done all you can.” Aunt Paula smiled at Jamie. “That poor man is the loser. Nobody could look at this precious boy and not love him.”

“I think you might be prejudiced,” she teased, but the instant bond that had formed between Paula and Jamie was precious to her. She’d had nightmares sometimes, in those early months of Jamie’s life, thinking about what would become of Jamie if something happened to her.

Jamie had family now, thanks to Aunt Paula. Hannah’s throat tightened. Paula didn’t ask anything in return for her kindness and support. But Hannah knew one thing that would make her happy, if she could bring herself to do it.

She cleared her throat, trying to find a way to bring up the subject. “I was thinking . . . remembering, I guess. About Mammi, and the day she told me what the prayer kapp means.” She tried to smile. “I couldn’t have been much more than six or seven, sitting in the bedroom watching her fix her hair.”

Aunt Paula nodded, eyes growing misty. “Elizabeth had beautiful hair. When she was little I’d brush it for her. I remember when she first started wearing the kapp. She was so pleased, thinking it made her look like a grown-up woman.”

“I’m glad you have some happy memories of her,” Hannah said softly.

“I wish . . .” Paula stopped, sighing. “Well, there is no point in wishing to undo the past. I could not keep my baby sister with me forever.”

“No, I guess not.” Paula couldn’t have prevented their going away, even though it grieved her. But if they’d stayed, if Mammi had had family and religion and tradition to rely on, maybe she would not have slipped so far into the depression, where no one could reach her.

“I don’t mean to make you sad.” Aunt Paula reached across the table to pat Hannah’s hand. “Now, what were you saying about the kapp?”

It was a small thing to do, wasn’t it? And it would make Aunt Paula happy.

“I was thinking that perhaps I should go back to wearing one. If you think it appropriate.”

Aunt Paula beamed. “Appropriate? Ja, of course. Women in more progressive churches than ours wear them with Englisch dress.” She sobered, looking at Hannah searchingly. “But don’t think I’m pushing you to do this, my Hannah. It’s for you to decide.”

“I know. And I have decided.” She touched a stray strand ruefully. “But it’s a job to keep my hair back. I don’t want to look foolish.”

“There’s nothing foolish about it. It’s a sign of devotion. Now, I can lend you some kapps, for sure. But it would be wonderful gut if we could make some for you.” Aunt Paula’s mind seemed to be racing, but the thoughts clearly pleased her. “Why don’t you walk down to Katie’s shop after supper? She carries the organdy for kapps and will know just what you need. We can work on it after Jamie is in bed.”

“Katie won’t be open, will she?” Hannah bent to rescue the spoon Jamie had thrown on the floor.

“No, but she and her sister always stay on Saturday to make sure everything is cleaned up and ready for the next week. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you. And Jamie and I will have a nice little time together.”

It was fairly obvious that Paula wanted some time alone with Jamie. Hannah’s heart warmed. Jamie might be missing a father and grandparent, but he did have people who loved him.

*   *   *

As
she walked down Main Street, Hannah realized she had another goal besides getting the material for her prayer coverings.

Katie and Caleb seemed to be close to William. Perhaps he’d told them about her offer to help with his stammer. Maybe Katie would have some insight into William’s attitude.

His reaction had unsettled Hannah. In fact, it still did.

William had shut her out. That look of reserve sat strangely on his open, friendly face, but maybe it shouldn’t have surprised her. She’d realized that he might have been embarrassed, even hurt at her directing so much attention to what he probably saw as a defect. If she’d hurt him—well, she’d have to find some way to make amends.

She frowned a little, thinking about that conversation. Why on earth had she told him so much about her marriage? She’d never intended that, but somehow the words had slipped out. Maybe she’d mistaken William’s silence for empathy.

The sign on the quilt shop door had been turned to Closed, but she could see figures moving inside. She knocked, hoping Aunt Paula had been right.

“Hannah,” Katie exclaimed, pulling the door wide. “This is nice, for sure. Komm.” Her hand swept in a welcoming gesture.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve come by after you’re closed. Aunt Paula seemed to think it wouldn’t be a problem, but . . .”

“Paula is right, as always, and I’m happy to see you. Here is my sister Rhoda, who helps me in the shop.”

The girl who smiled and nodded must have been about sixteen or seventeen. She wore the sober Amish dress, but her face was pert and lively, making Hannah wonder how many young Amish hearts she’d be breaking.

“What can we do for you?” Katie asked. “Were you wanting some fabric?”

“That’s it. I need to make some prayer coverings—or rather, I should say that Aunt Paula will teach me how to make them. I haven’t worn one since I was nine, and I certainly don’t remember how to make them.”

She touched the clasp that held her hair at the nape of her neck. Would an Amish woman find it odd that she proposed to wear a prayer covering? Or even be offended? In the face of Aunt Paula’s enthusiasm, she hadn’t even considered that.

But Katie didn’t seem to find it odd, and Rhoda was already pulling out a bolt of white fabric.

“Ach, that’s right.” Katie led the way to the counter. “I was forgetting that you were once a part of the community. You are coming home, ain’t so?”

“I guess I am.” That was certainly how her aunt thought about it.

Hannah wasn’t so certain. She remembered this life more and more, the longer she stayed. But it still seemed distant to her, as if the sometimes bitter years that followed had created an impassable barrier.

Katie was measuring the fabric with a practiced hand. “How many kapps were you wanting to make?”

“Just give me enough fabric for three.” If she needed more, she could come back. And if she found wearing a kapp too uncomfortable . . . well, that would disappoint her aunt more than if Hannah had never brought it up.

Trying to distract herself, she glanced around the shop while Katie cut the fabric. Colorful quilts and table runners glowed from every available surface, and the rows of fabric bolts tempted even someone as inept with a needle as she was.

“The shop is wonderful. I love your quilts.”

Katie’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. “Denke. My mother has a quilt shop back home, and this was always my dream.”

“You’ve certainly made your dream a reality. Back home? You’re not from Pleasant Valley, then?”

Katie shook her head. “Columbia County. I’d been here a number of times to visit my cousins, and when the opportunity came to open my shop, I thought I’d stay. And then I got to know Caleb, and that was even more of a reason to stay.” Katie’s face seemed to glow with love as she glanced toward the shop on the other side of the archway.

It was dark, Hannah realized. “Caleb isn’t working late, like you?” Or did she really want to ask about William?

“Not tonight. Rhoda and I went to have supper with him and his mother, but we needed to clear up a bit once we got back.”

“Katie has several quilt groups and classes that meet here,” Rhoda said. “Do you like to quilt?”

Hannah smiled, taking the bag Katie held out to her. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for it, with my work at the bakery and a baby to take care of.”

“Katie said you have a little boy.” Rhoda’s eyes sparkled. “I love babies. If you need anyone to watch him sometime, I’d love it.”

“Thanks. That’s good to know.” Though where she’d go that she’d need a sitter, she couldn’t imagine. Even if she could afford to hire one.

With an inward shudder she thought of the last sitter she’d hired to watch Jamie while she worked. The woman had come with wonderful references, but Hannah had quickly discovered that she left Jamie to cry in his crib while she watched daytime television. Hannah still had nightmares about Jamie crying and no one coming.

“Anytime,” Rhoda said. She glanced at her sister. “I’ll finish the back room, ja?”

“Sounds gut.” Katie waited until her sister had disappeared through a door at the back. “She really is fine with kinder. You could trust her. But I think you did not come just to buy fabric or to talk about my sister.”

The kindness and understanding in Katie’s eyes were reassuring. Hannah nodded.

“You’ve guessed, then. I was worried that I had offended William earlier. I thought you would know.”

“Ja, he told us about your offer to help him with his stammer. That was ser kind of you, and I don’t think he was offended.”

“But he didn’t say yes,” Hannah pointed out.

Katie hesitated, as if choosing her words. “It seemed to me that William wanted to accept. For sure, Caleb and I think it a fine idea. But William . . . he seems to be afraid it might set people talking.”

Hannah blinked. That was certainly the last reason she’d expected. “But why? It’s not as if we’d be doing anything wrong. I would just work with him in the afternoon, when Jamie was napping.”

She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be upset. Did William think her offer was a means of flirting with him?

“Ach, you don’t need to tell me there would be nothing wrong. Or William either, for that matter. But . . .” She hesitated and then shook her head. “You will not understand unless I tell you a bit more about William.”

Hannah would think that William, of all people, would have a life like an open book. “If it’s something private—”

“I’m sure most people in the valley know of it, though Will probably wishes they didn’t.” Katie shook her head as if exasperated with herself. “It’s this way, you see. There was a brother between Isaac and William, and when he died in an accident, it was natural for William to start helping his widow, Rachel, and her kinder. Maybe natural, too, that he grew to think himself in love with her.”

Hannah hadn’t expected that. “If they loved each other, surely—”

“William is several years younger than Rachel, you see. I wasn’t here at the time, but Rachel is a friend, and she has told me about it. She loved him like a brother, not like a man.” She shook her head, smiling slightly. “And William was young and foolish. He did some things . . . oh, nothing bad. Just some little accidents, so that he could come to the rescue and Rachel would see how much she needed him. Foolish, as I say, and when it came out, William was mortified and ashamed. He had to confess to the church, even.”

“It must have been so hard on him. And on Rachel, for that matter.” Hannah tried to imagine the shame William must have felt.

“Ja. They are friends now, and Rachel is married again. But still, I think William is sensitive about what happened. Maybe he fears that if people see him getting close to another older woman . . .” Katie spread her hands wide. “Well, you can understand. Someone with more confidence than William wouldn’t give it a second thought, I’m sure, but because of his stammer, he does.”