“Is h-he leaving, then?” No need to spell out who they were talking about.
“I don’t know.” Her voice firmed. “But I want to get back to normal. All right?”
Whether she was right or not, William didn’t know, but he nodded.
Hannah went on toward the picnic table, her slim back straight. William stood where he was, taking a sip of his coffee. But it had gotten cold while they’d talked, and he poured it out.
Come to think of it, he wasn’t really all that hungry. He swallowed a couple bites of the shoofly pie and tossed the paper plate in the trash. He might as well get back to work.
He headed over toward the supply area. He’d be working fairly high for the next few hours, and he wouldn’t want to be coming back down for anything he could take up to begin with.
No one else was there, which was maybe just as well. He didn’t feel much like talking at the moment. If Hannah—
“It’s William, right?”
The sound of the Englisch voice behind him had William spinning around, grasping a handful of nails. “J-ja.”
It was Robert Conroy, and at the sight of him William’s tongue seemed to tie itself in knots. His fingers tightened until the nails bit into his palms. Stupid, to let the man affect him this way.
“I saw the little toy train you made for Jamie.” Conroy didn’t seem to notice or care whether he spoke or not. “Nice work.”
William ducked his head in the characteristic Amish response to a compliment. He didn’t deserve praise for what had been a labor of love, and he didn’t want it.
“I’d never seen a barn raising before.” Conroy glanced up at the structure that loomed above them—the bare ribs of what would be a barn before the day was over. “It’s like watching something from the past.”
If he thought William would be bothered by the implication that he was old-fashioned, he didn’t understand the Amish.
William reached for a post that would be needed, grasping one end. To his surprise, Conroy took the other. He hefted it easily, obviously fit for his age.
“Where to?”
“By the l-ladder.” Together they put it in place.
“I understand my daughter-in-law has been helping you with your speech problems.” There was a question in Conroy’s eyes. Was he asking if there was more to their relationship? Maybe not satisfied with the answers he was getting from everyone else?
“J-j-ja. Sh-she h-has.” His stammer seemed to worsen at the mention of the lessons.
Conroy nodded. “Well, it gives her something to do here besides working in a bakery. A chance to keep her hand in her career.”
William didn’t even attempt a response to that comment.
“It’s a shame she wasn’t able to complete her education before she and my son got married.”
Conroy’s face tightened, whether at the reminder of his son’s loss, or disapproval of that marriage, William wasn’t sure.
“Anyway, once Jamie is a little older, Hannah will be able to go back to college. She’ll finish her education and have the career she always wanted, right?”
Apparently satisfied that he’d made his point, Conroy walked away.
* * *
“Now
what do you suppose those two have found to talk about?”
Startled, Hannah turned to the person who’d spoken and found that Rachel Zook was standing next to her. Obviously Rachel had been watching the conversation between William and Robert Conroy as intently as Hannah had.
Rachel caught Hannah’s eye and flushed a little. “Ach, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken—”
“It’s fine.” Hannah touched her arm lightly. “You and William are family. I understand that you care for him.”
And she’d love to know, too, what Robert had found it necessary to say to William. It had been obvious that Robert had initiated the conversation. Obvious, too, in his expression when he walked away that he thought he’d achieved something. But what?
“We just don’t want William to be hurt,” Rachel said, her voice soft so that none of the others, busy serving the midmorning food, would hear her. “He’s . . . well, he’s special.”
“He is.” But maybe by
special
, Rachel meant William’s stammer.
If so, she’d be wrong. William was special because of the warmth of his heart and the strength of his character. Each time she saw him, Hannah was more aware of those qualities.
Rachel studied her face for a moment. Then she smiled. “I believe you do understand.”
“I don’t want him to be hurt, either, believe me, especially not because of me. My father-in-law has some ideas that are . . . troublesome.”
“He wants you to leave here, doesn’t he?” Rachel’s quick understanding seemed to leap ahead of explanations. “Why? Because of your faith?”
“I suppose in a way that’s at the heart of it.” She spoke slowly, feeling her way. She’d been so busy worrying that she hadn’t really been able to see Robert’s attitudes clearly. “He seems to feel that if I bring Jamie up here, he will forget his father. Or maybe be ashamed of his father’s military service.” She shook her head ruefully. “I tried to explain about nonviolence, but I probably didn’t do a very good job of it. I’ve been away too long.”
“No.” Rachel patted her hand. “You were nine when you left. You’d already been raised in faith, and even though you left for a while, that wasn’t lost.”
“I’ve begun to feel that I was the one who was lost during those years.” Strange, that it was Rachel who was helping her understand. “Now, with Robert pressuring me, I see how much my faith and my family mean to me.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t burden you with my troubles. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I understand, maybe better than you know. My brother, my twin, jumped the fence to the outside world, and I know now that he won’t ever come back.” Sorrow touched her expression. “It’s ser hard to accept that, but I have managed to. But you can come back, Hannah, if that’s what you want, no matter what other people say. Just listen to your heart.”
Tears pricked her eyes at Rachel’s unexpected kindness. “Denke,” she whispered.
Rachel nodded. “Think how embarrassed William would be if he knew we were talking about him.” She glanced toward the construction site. “Look, Gideon and William are going up to the top to work.”
Hannah picked William’s figure out easily. And what did that say about her feelings, that she could identify his back in an instant among a whole crowd of similarly dressed men? She hadn’t recognized at first that the man with him was Rachel’s husband.
The two men had reached the top, and they walked easily along a beam that looked as thin as a tightrope from where Hannah stood.
“It scares me, to see them working way up there without a safety harness,” she said.
“I know. When Gideon works on installing windmills now, he does wear one, since he’s often working alone up there. He talked to the bishop about it, though.”
The two men seemed to be talking as they worked, and once, Hannah saw William throw his head back and laugh, exposing the strong column of his throat.
“It’s wonderful that they get along so well. I mean . . .” She stopped. Maybe Rachel wouldn’t like that she knew about William’s feelings for her.
“Because William proposed to me once?” Rachel smiled. “That was William being kind, wanting to take care of us. He confused that with love. I told him that one day he’d find the right woman for him, and when he did find her, his stammer wouldn’t matter at all.”
Hannah wasn’t sure how to respond. It was true that William’s stammer didn’t matter to her, except that it had brought them together. But was Rachel implying—
Rachel gasped, her hand going to her lips. Hannah followed her gaze to the top of the barn, and her heart seemed to stop. One of the men . . . Gideon, it was Gideon . . . had slipped. He dangled from the beam, legs swinging as he held on with one arm.
For an instant the scene froze, then it broke as suddenly. All over the structure, men swarmed toward Gideon.
But William was already there. As smoothly as if he were flat on the ground, he dropped full-length on the beam, reaching down to grab Gideon’s other arm, drawing it up so that Gideon could grasp the beam.
“It’s all right. William has him.” Hannah clasped Rachel’s hand, not realizing until she’d done it that she’d spoken in dialect. “He’s safe. William won’t let him fall.”
He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t let Gideon fall, and he wouldn’t fall himself trying to help him. He wouldn’t.
But she couldn’t pull her gaze away, as if by the sheer force of her stare she could keep him there, keep him safe.
Please, Father. Please. Hold them in Your hands.
The other men were closer now, and Hannah was startled to realize that Robert had started up the ladder, as if to help. William wasn’t waiting. Straddling the beam, he helped Gideon inch himself upward. The movement was so slow, so painful she could feel the strain on his muscles, sense his single-minded determination.
And then Gideon was high enough to get his leg over the beam, and William hauled him the rest of the way. A relieved murmur went through the crowd, and Hannah realized she could breathe again. He was safe. They were both safe.
In fact, they were slapping each other’s shoulders as if it had all been a game of some sort.
“Men,” Rachel murmured, and the word expressed Hannah’s feelings perfectly.
But those tense moments had shown Hannah something very clearly. She loved William. And she didn’t know what she was going to do about it.
Her cheeks went hot with the realization, and she pressed her palms against them, hoping no one had noticed. Most of the women were still focused on what was going on atop the building site. Rachel had turned away to say something to a friend.
And then she realized that one person was staring right at her. Robert Conroy, still on the ladder, had turned toward her, and judging by his expression, he didn’t like what he was seeing.
C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN
H
annah
expected a reaction from her father-in-law, and she assumed it wouldn’t be long in coming. Fortunately he’d kept silent while her aunt was around, saying only that he’d stop back to see Hannah once Jamie was in bed.
Jamie slapped his hand on the bathwater, sending up a spray that narrowly missed her, and chortled.
“I think you’re getting more wound up instead of more relaxed.”
Hannah handed him his yellow ducky to divert him while she rinsed his hair. Cupping her hand across his forehead, she poured a cupful of warm water over his head, getting the shampoo out before he had time to protest.
“There we go, all done, and you didn’t cry, did you?”
“No cry.” Jamie shook his head solemnly. He lifted his arms with a sudden change of mood. “Out.”
“Put your toys in their net first. Who can catch the big fish?” She swooped the duck across the water, chasing the other toys.
Giggling, Jamie corralled the plastic boat and whale, and together they put the toys in the mesh bag that hung from the faucet.
“Now we’re ready.” She held out the bath towel, wrapping the wet, wiggly little body as she lifted him out. “That’s my boy.”
In a matter of moments the bath-time routine was completed, and she sat with Jamie on her lap in the rocking chair. Already drowsy, he leaned against her while she said his nighttime prayers.
“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. Let angels watch me through the night, and wake me with the morning light.”
It was the prayer Travis wanted his son taught, the one his mother had taught him.
Kissing Jamie’s damp curls, she added a prayer of her own.
Please, Father, help me to be the mother I should be. To make the right decisions for this precious boy.
She sighed, her mind straying to Robert, then to William.
Give me wisdom, Father, because I don’t see the way forward.
She lingered, rocking Jamie, wanting to prolong this peaceful time. Unfortunately, her thoughts were anything but peaceful. They kept reliving those moments when William had been in danger. Those moments when she’d realized she loved him.
It was no wonder she hadn’t recognized what was happening. Her feelings for William had developed so differently from her love for Travis.
She looked back at the girl she’d been then and was hardly able to recognize herself. She’d been standing at the cash register in the convenience store near campus, and she’d come up a dollar short to pay for her items. With the clerk staring at her suspiciously, and her cheeks red with embarrassment, Hannah had tried to decide which item to put back.
Then a hand came into view, holding out a dollar. “Let me.”
She’d looked up into warm, smiling brown eyes, barely registering the uniform he wore, and her legs had turned to water. She’d tumbled hard and fast into love, dizzyingly so. On their second date Travis had asked her to marry him, and she’d said yes without a moment’s hesitation.
With William, every step of their relationship had been different. She’d been sorry for him at first, watching him struggle and knowing so well what he was going through. And then she’d seen him as a student, someone she could help.
But the teacher-student balance had shifted when she began to depend on him as a friend. She’d grown to respect his strength of character, to rely on his calm, steady presence. If Robert realized it was the threat he’d posed that had pushed her into William’s arms, what would he think?
And then, all in an instant when William was in danger, the blinders fell from her eyes, and she’d known that what she felt was love.
She rose, carrying Jamie across to the crib. Half-asleep, he went willingly, snuggling his favorite blanket close. Hannah stroked his back.
“Nighty-night, my sweetheart. Sleep tight. Mammi loves you.”
She walked slowly from the room, her thoughts still centered on William. He cared for her—she knew that. But was it love on his part, or just sympathy for her situation? And if it was love, how could it ever work out between them? William was secure in his Amish faith, and she could never ask him to change.
And her first duty would always be to Jamie. She wouldn’t change that, but how could she bring up Travis’s son as Amish?
Hannah was just closing the door to Jamie’s room when she heard the doorbell. Her stomach clenched. It would be Robert. She had to face him, and she didn’t have any answers.
The stairs seemed steeper than usual as she went down. Robert’s face, seen through the glass in the back door, was set in harsh lines. Since it was dusk, he didn’t wear those sunglasses that turned his face into a mask, but she almost wished he had. She wasn’t sure she wanted to read the expression in his eyes.
Her hand closed on the knob, and she swung the door open. “Robert. Won’t you come in?”
He gestured toward the porch swing. “Why don’t we sit here and talk? We’ll have more privacy.”
Not sure she wanted privacy, Hannah had to nod anyway. She went out, closing the door. The porch light, which she had turned on earlier to welcome him, cast a yellow glow over the weathered floorboards of the porch, and the pot of mums by the steps made a bright splotch of color in the fading light.
Hannah sat down on the porch swing, drawing her skirt close so that there was room for him to sit next to her. Instead, Robert pulled the wicker rocking chair to face her and sat, hands planted on his knees.
“I’ve decided that I’m leaving on Monday morning.”
The blunt announcement took her by surprise, even though she hadn’t expected him to stay as long as he had. “I see. You’re welcome to stay longer, you know.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “It’s time I got back to Arizona, but I want things settled between us before I go. What I want to hear from you is that you’re leaving, too.”
She could only stare at him. “I don’t—”
He cut her off with a sharp chop of his hand. “I know. I’ve heard all the reasons you have for staying. Maybe I even understand some of them. This is a nice place to live, but Jamie’s future is more important than all that.”
She took a breath, hoping she could say what needed to be said without sounding confrontational. “I don’t understand why you feel so strongly about this, Robert. You never . . .”
“What? I never expressed much interest in Jamie before?” He looked a little shamefaced at that for an instant, but he rallied. “I never got along with my own son? Is that what you’re saying?”
It took all her courage. “Yes.”
“Fair enough. After his mother died, Travis and I didn’t have much in common, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t care.” His gaze seemed to bore through her. “I know you have to leave here to give Jamie the life he’d have had if Travis had come home.”
That went straight to her heart, taking her breath away for an instant. When she thought she could keep her voice steady, she spoke.
“Travis didn’t come home. That’s the whole point. He’s gone, and I have to do the best job I can on my own.” How many times had she said that, but he didn’t seem to hear?
“And you think that best job is raising Travis’s son among people who deny themselves modern conveniences, who believe in raising their kids to be ignorant of progress? What do you think Jamie would grow up to do in a place like this? Be a farmer? You’ll take away all his chances of making something of himself.”
Her head had begun to pound, her stomach to ache. She hated confrontation. Loud voices and arguments made her want to hide in the closet and put her hands over her ears.
But she had to try to make him understand. “I would never take away Jamie’s choices. He’ll always have the right to decide for himself. Once he’s old enough to understand, if he doesn’t want to live Plain, I’ll do everything I can to help him create another life.”
“After he’s been brainwashed by people who hate everything his father stood for? People who turn their backs on Travis’s sacrifice?” His voice had risen, sharp against her ears, and he stood, looming over her.
“Robert, you don’t understand.” Her voice sounded weak in her own ears. “That’s my fault. I didn’t explain it well enough. Amish and Mennonites don’t belittle what Travis did. It’s just that they’ve chosen another road. The way of nonviolence.”
“Words.” He dismissed them with a strong sweep of his arm. “You don’t even believe that yourself. I know the truth. I’ve seen it. You want to stay here, deny my grandson his rightful future, because of that Amish man.”
William. Robert had seen, and he knew she loved William.
She should have been prepared for his anger, and she hadn’t been. She’d muddled everything about dealing with Robert.
“That’s not so. There’s nothing between me and William . . .”
“Don’t bother. I know what I saw with my own eyes.” He ground out the words. “You’d better think this over carefully, Hannah. Very carefully. Because, believe me, the wrong decision is going to cost you.”
Robert spun and stalked off, anger radiating from him as he went.
Hannah huddled on the swing, her arms crossed over her stomach as if to protect herself. This was worse, far worse, than she’d feared.
* * *
“What
can he do?” Nancy Russo’s voice was calm. She carried a teapot to her round kitchen table and poured the fragrant brew into Hannah’s cup. “I’m sure Robert is as upset as you say, but really, what can he do about it?”
“Denke.” Hannah replied absently in Pennsylvania Dutch, and then realized what she’d done. “Thank you.”
Nancy smiled, sitting down across from her. “It’s all right. I don’t know much dialect, but I understand a few words.”
Hannah sipped, the warmth and aroma seeping through her, soothing her. Or perhaps the serenity was emanating from Nancy. She was a comforting person, with her soft gray curls and a face that seemed made for smiling.
Maybe that was why Nancy had popped up in Hannah’s mind during a mostly sleepless night. She’d known she needed to talk to someone about Robert, someone who might understand the man better than she did. And she’d remembered Nancy.
Hannah put the cup down. “You know, I had no intention of blurting the whole story out like that the minute I walked through your door. I was going to lead up to it gradually, but when you looked at me with so much sympathy, it just poured out. Does that often happen to you?”
Nancy smiled. “Sometimes. Anyway, I’m glad you did. I meant it when I said I’d like to help.”
“You said that before I realized I was going to need it.”
Hannah leaned against the spindle-back of the chair, surprised at how comfortable it was, and wondered if the piece was Amish-made. Nancy’s house was a modern ranch, but the kitchen had a comfortable country air, with one wall of faded brick and cast-iron skillets hanging from a rack.
“Yes, well, I had a feeling from Robert’s attitude that there might be trouble,” Nancy said. “I’ve seen his type of man before. He’s the kind who’s intent on getting his own way.”
“I think he means well.” Hannah rubbed her forehead, where a headache lingered, made even worse by her sleepless night. “He just won’t listen to any other point of view but his own.”
“No. Well, you see that sometimes with people who’ve spent their entire careers in the military. Not often, maybe, but it happens. They’re used to a world where there’s only one right way to do things.”
“Maybe so,” Hannah said slowly, trying to adjust her view of Robert. “I have to admit, I don’t understand him. Travis . . .” She let that trail off, not sure she wanted to talk about Travis.
“Are you afraid Travis would have turned out like his father?” Nancy said, her voice gentle.
“No, no. In fact, he was determined not to be like his dad. Travis was proud of his service, of course, but he wasn’t going to re-up. He’d decided that when we found out I was pregnant.” She smiled, remembering his joy, and his immediate response. “He said he didn’t want his child to grow up with an absentee father, the way he had. He said the cost was too great.”
She stopped, the words echoing in her mind. That was very nearly the threat Robert had leveled at her.
“What is it?” Nancy was quick to read the change in Hannah’s feelings.
“Nothing.” She rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled. “It’s just—that was what Robert said to me. That if I stayed, the cost might be too high.”
Nancy patted her hand. “I wouldn’t let him intimidate you. Robert doesn’t understand Plain people, and what he doesn’t understand threatens him.”
“You’re Englisch, and you don’t feel that way, do you?”
“I’ve lived around Plain people all my life,” Nancy said. “Pleasant Valley was my home, and that’s why we retired here. There’s not much I don’t understand. And admire, for that matter. It’s different for someone like Robert, who has never been exposed to it.”
“I tried to explain our beliefs about nonviolence, but I obviously failed.” Hannah looked at Nancy hopefully. “Maybe if you talked to him, he’d listen.”
“I’ll be glad to do what I can, but I’m not sure he’ll hear me. He said something to my husband about you taking his grandson into a cult, if you can believe that. Phil tried to explain, but . . .” She shrugged her shoulders. “You can see it didn’t do much good.”
No, it hadn’t. “Well, please thank him for trying. And thank you. Whatever you can do, I’ll appreciate.”
“That’s all right, my dear.” Nancy patted her hand. “I know it’s worrisome, but when it comes right down to it, you’re doing the best you can for that little boy. If your father-in-law doesn’t approve—well, in-laws don’t, sometimes.” She paused. “I guess the only thing to ask yourself is whether you’re sure. After all, you’ve lived in the outside world for a long time.”
“I was Plain for nine years. That’s a good big chunk of my life.” She tried to think how best to explain what she hadn’t really articulated to anyone else. “When we moved away, I was devastated. I didn’t understand what was happening to us. I adjusted, eventually. Accepted. But there was always a hole in me.” She put her hand on her chest. She could almost feel the remembered pain. “When I came back here, I didn’t really intend it to be for good. But I began to see that my faith had always been there, underneath. This is my place.”