Hanna's Awakening (3 page)

No one had ever called Hanna beautiful, and she didn’t know how to receive the compliment. She’d grown up learning how to be plain and proper. How to never draw attention to herself. Taking her kapp off and letting her hair down in front of an English man was an act that would’ve been punished severely. Now it felt wonderful, even more so because she didn’t fear her daat’s fist or cruel words, or having to shamefully confess her sin in front of the bishops.

“It’s never been cut,” she said.

“Do you want to cut it?”

A choice. Mr. Foster was giving her another choice about her appearance. Careful to hide her giddiness, she nodded. “Yes. I couldn’t bear to wear it down when it’s this long, but I don’t want to put the kapp back on.”

“We’ll get you a haircut tomorrow too. Maybe we’ll spend the whole day in town. I need supplies for the garden and some other odds and ends.”

Hanna agreed and soon had the bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches Mr. Foster had requested ready. She joined him at the table and couldn’t stop thinking about tomorrow’s trip to town. During most of her previous trips to town, she hadn’t been allowed out of the buggy. In fact, she’d only been inside the Dollar General and a quilting shop. After Abram and Jacob had joined the church, her father no longer paid any mind to their travels to town. She’d envied their freedom, and she was jealous her
rumspringha
had been restricted to nothing more than a few buggy rides with young Amish men to church or a game of volleyball with others her age. She suspected her daat was extra strict with her since she’d been indecisive the first time he’d asked if she was ready to join the church, shortly before her seventeenth birthday. He’d thought shielding her from the English ways would prevent her leaving. Instead, she’d grown more curious over the years. More isolated within her tightknit community. Lonelier. More determined.

“Hanna, we need to discuss the trip to town,” Mr. Foster said once he finished his lunch.

“All right.”

“I get odd looks when I go to town. People think I’m strange because I live out here by myself, and most everyone thinks I’m some kind of crazy survivalist with a bunker, just waiting for the government to come take my guns away.”

Half of what Mr. Foster said didn’t make sense. She strived to understand his meaning, but her thoughts grew fuzzy. “A crazy survivalist? What do you mean?” Guns terrified her and she hoped he didn’t own one, but fear kept her from asking.

“A weirdo,” he said. “A man who has secrets. A man who has mental problems.” He tapped at his head.

“I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”

“They don’t like me because I’m different.”

“Ah. I see now.” She could certainly relate to being different. To not belonging.

“Anyway, Hanna, if people in town find out I’m harboring a young girl who just left the Amish, it might mean trouble for us. They might think I’m taking advantage of you and keeping you here against your will. I don’t want any do-gooders nosing around in our business.”

“How will we go to town then?” Hanna’s spirits plummeted to her feet. Would he make her wait in his truck? Or worse yet, tell her he’d changed his mind?

“When we visit town, you’ll pretend you’re my daughter.”

“You want me to call you Daat?”

“No, not Daat. No Amish words. Dad or Daddy will do just fine. I’m pushing forty, so I’m old enough to be your father.” His brown eyes darkened further as he stared at her.

“Yah. I’ll call you Daddy when we go town.”

“Not yah.
Yes
. Say ‘yes, Daddy.’”

Her face heated. “Yes, Daddy.”

* * *

Lingering awkwardly outside a women’s dressing room, Ben waited as Hanna tried on outfit after outfit. The selection had overwhelmed her, so he’d picked out a few dresses, most of them modest in style. From what he could see of her as she modeled the form-fitting clothes, she’d had a beautiful, curvy body hidden underneath those plain dresses. To fight his impending hard-on, he fled the dressing room area on the premise of finding her at least one pair of pants and some t-shirts.

As he fumbled through a stack of jeans, he realized she probably needed underthings too. Christ. He groaned inwardly. What the hell had he gotten himself into? Ever since she’d arrived at his house a week ago, he’d been one giant walking erection.

“Can I help you find something, sir?”

Ben’s head shot up at the sound of a woman’s voice. A sales associate. Thank God. He stood up, glancing over his shoulder at the dressing room. “Yes, um, my daughter’s getting a whole new wardrobe for college. She might need help picking out… underthings.” Covering his mouth, he coughed uncomfortably. “You know. Panties. Bras.”

The woman, a plump redhead with a saccharine smile, raised an eyebrow. He didn’t need to be psychic to read her thoughts. She obviously found it strange that a woman old enough to go to college was out shopping for bras and panties with her dad. Cringing, his mind raced for an explanation to offer the woman.

He came up empty.

“Is that her underwear size?”

Ben held a pair of jeans in his hands, the same size as the dresses. “Yes. Think so.”

“What about bra size, sir?”

“Huh?”

“What’s her bra size?”

“Not sure. Maybe you could bring a few sizes for her to try out.”

“Of course. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She disappeared to the other end of the store where panties and bras hung on racks.

Ben gave himself a mental shake before calling for Hanna outside the dressing room. She appeared in front of the mirrors, head inclined as she approached him. A long, flower-patterned purple dress clung to her bosom and waist, flowing out from her hips to graze her ankles. And she definitely, most definitely, wasn’t wearing a bra. A hint of her nipples showed like tiny peaks through the fabric.

“Wear that one to lunch.” The words escaped his mouth before he could think.

An hour later, he carried several bags to his truck filled with dresses, jeans, a few shirts, shoes, pajamas, and unmentionables. After locking up his truck, they ventured back inside the mall to a walk-in hair salon. The hairdresser suggested Hanna donate some of her long, beautiful locks to cancer patients. Hanna readily agreed. When it was all said and done, she’d lost fourteen inches of hair, but it still swept over her shoulders in shining waves. Ben couldn’t stop staring, especially when it blew in the breeze as they exited the mall.

“Do you like pizza?” He opened the car door, waiting for her to crawl inside.

“Yes. I’ve had it before. Sarah made it once, but Daat and my brothers didn’t like it so she never made it again. I’ve never had it from a restaurant though.” She graced him with a smile as she hopped on the seat, smoothing out her dress.

“Let’s go get pizza, then.” He leaned over to buckle her in, then closed her door and rounded the truck, sliding in to start the engine.

“Mr. Foster?”

“Yes?” From the corner of his eye, he noticed her hands twisting on her lap. He turned his body to face her, puzzled over her sudden anxiety.

“Thank you for the job. Thank you for the room. Thank you for the clothes. I am so grateful for your help. You’re a very good man, helping me like this.”

The urge to gather Hanna in his arms was unbearable. He wanted to hold her and promise everything would be okay. To tell her she would grow up to have a wonderful life, despite being estranged from her biological family. He ached to soothe her fears. He also ached to possess her, to teach her pleasure and keep her with him forever. To cuddle her and take care of her the way a sweet little girl like her deserved. The thought of eventually letting her go, sending her off into the cruel world he’d once escaped, filled him with angry despair.

Though she was incredibly shy and quiet, he saw a fire burning within her. An independent streak that had been squashed by years of living under her father’s overbearing authority. He was more than glad to help her overcome it.

As the silence loomed, Ben decided it wouldn’t hurt to show her some physical affection. He covered her hands with his. Their first skin-to-skin contact. The temperature in the truck rose ten degrees. Panic flickered briefly in her eyes, and she surveyed the parking lot, as if to make sure no one witnessed this semi-intimate moment.

“I’m happy to help you, Hanna. You’re a good kid. You deserve the best out of life.” He grinned and gave her hands a gentle squeeze, reveling in the warmth of the touch. “Besides, I enjoy your company. Helping you is no hardship to me.”

She returned his smile. “I’m not a kid, Mr. Foster.”

He almost sucked in a quick breath, but stopped himself. Instead, he mumbled a placid response, released her hands, and drove to the pizza place.

Tony’s Pizza wasn’t fancy by any means, but by the way Hanna gawked around with open wonder, it could’ve been a five-star restaurant. To his surprise, she made small talk with the waitress when she came to take their order, and she smiled at a few of the patrons sitting nearby. It seemed Hanna was starting to come out of her shell, little by little. He alone would witness her transformation. He would help make it possible, and he felt charged with responsibility to guide her and keep her safe. Failing her wasn’t an option.

She visited the restroom as he paid the bill. His mood was light, until three college-aged girls who reeked of pot and beer walked past the counter and into the same restroom. He waited and waited, wondering what was taking Hanna so long. Just as he was about to storm in after her, she emerged, laughing amidst the group of potheads. Ben frowned as they all approached him.

“Daddy, I was wondering if I might go to a movie with Carla, Theresa, and Vicky while you run your errands?” She gestured at her new friends.

Ben’s jaw tightened. Carla, Theresa, and Vicky probably knew Hanna used to be Amish based on her accent. He hadn’t taken her Dutch accent into account when he came up with the grand idea of pretending he was her father. No doubt these girls thought it would be funny to get Hanna high or corrupt her in some other fashion. His teeth ground together as he glared at the mean-spirited young women, but his countenance softened when he regarded Hanna. “Not today, sweetheart. I need your help picking out some things.”

“Oh, come on,
Daddy
,” one of the girls said mockingly. “Hanna says she’s new in town and doesn’t have any friends. We’d love to show her around.”

“Absolutely not!” His incensed tone earned him curious stares from several diners.

Hanna looked hurt and confused. Her eyes flashed. “If I want to go to a movie with someone my own age, Mr. Foster, I have a right to do so.”

“Mr. Foster? I thought he was your dad?” another of the girls said. The three of them exchanged glances, giggling.

“It’s time to go, Hanna. Now.”

Though her face reddened and her eyes still blazed, Hanna nodded and said a quick apology to her
friends
before taking a step toward Ben. Without thinking, he gripped her upper arm and guided her outside, not releasing her until they reached the truck.

“Young lady, I ought to give you a good spanking for that. I told you in town you needed to do as I say and call me Daddy. I warned you about people trying to take advantage of you. Did you not listen to a word I said? What were you thinking, arguing with me and calling me Mr. Foster in front of the whole restaurant?” He leaned down to scold her, hands braced against the car door on either side of her body, pinning her in place without actually touching her.

Lip trembling, she peered up at him from under thick eyelashes, her cheeks suddenly pale. “I…. I…” She fumbled to speak but soon clamped her mouth shut.

“Those girls were high as a kite, Hanna. That means they were on drugs. You could get in serious trouble hanging out with a group of girls like that. You could end up in jail or worse.”

“I’m sorry.” Her apology came out in a shaky whisper. “I thought they were being nice to me. I—I didn’t know.”

As he considered the situation from her point of view, most of his anger dissipated. He couldn’t hold her responsible for her naivety. He backed up, dropping his arms to his sides. “We’ll talk about it at home.”

As they finished the rest of their shopping, Ben found it hard to concentrate, and Hanna avoided looking him in the eye. His threat to spank her hung between them. Her brief defiance had called up his stern, protective side. She was his responsibility. She was young and needed guidance.

By the time they arrived back at the cabin in the early evening, turning Hanna over his knee for a bare-bottom spanking was all he could think about. The urge to scold her, spank her, and comfort her in his arms afterward was the strongest urge he’d had in ages.

The tension as Hanna placed breakfast on the table almost brought her to tears. It was a relief to know she could cry again, but she couldn’t abide Mr. Foster’s quiet disapproval. He’d lectured her last night about the dangers of the outside world, and he was most upset that she’d argued with him in public. She felt horrible. She would’ve never dared argue with any of her family members in public. Shamed welled up tight within her until she lost her appetite and picked at the eggs and bacon.

Acutely aware of his every move, she suffered through breakfast. He informed her that he would be working on his computers most of the day. He designed webpages for businesses, and while she wasn’t quite sure what that meant, she knew he worked for long hours on the computer, sometimes staying up late past the time she retired.

A spanking. He’d said he should spank her yesterday in the parking lot. How unexpected. And terrifying. Until she’d witnessed his fury firsthand, she’d thought him to be a gentle man.

She ran a hand through her shortened hair in frustration. Even though the thought of a spanking scared her, the thought of being spanked by Mr. Foster also left her squirming. Though she hated to feel pain, her curiosity kept growing—right alongside her guilt over disappointing him. The whole restaurant had witnessed her blatant display of disrespect.

Young lady, I ought to give you a good spanking for that…