Second Chance At Love

Amish widow Hannah Yoder never intended to marry again. Yet when her friendship with veterinarian Albert Hartman begins to bloom into something more, Hannah wonders if perhaps she’s finally ready for a new love. Albert waited his whole life to find the right woman, only to realize Hannah was there all along. But there’s more than their friendship to consider. Albert is a Mennonite, born-and-bred, and Hannah cannot—will not—leave her Amish faith, not even for him. Does Albert have the courage to give up his modern life for Hannah…and will Hannah have the courage to let him?

Hannah’s Daughters: Seeking love, family and faith in Amish country

“Hannah, will you walk outside with me?” Albert asked.

“Albert, I—” She…what? What was she going to say to him? How could she explain her flustered behavior? “Albert, I should…”

“Hannah, don’t talk. I need you to listen to what I have to say before I lose my nerve.”

They were standing by the gatepost, within arm’s reach but not touching. She raised her head and looked into his eyes. For an instant, she felt the jolt of his intense gaze. And then, before she could react, she got a face full of raindrops as another shower swept over them in a drenching wave.

Albert grabbed her hand. “Quick!” he said. “Into the truck!” He dashed across the yard, pulling her with him.

Hannah’s heart was suddenly pounding. He was holding her hand! She knew that it was wrong, but it was impossible to break free. Laughing, she threw caution to the wind and ran after him. She didn’t care about the rain, didn’t care who could be watching, didn’t care if she was breaking every rule she’d lived by for more than thirty years.

EMMA MILLER

lives quietly in her old farmhouse in rural Delaware amid fertile fields and lush woodlands. Fortunate enough to be born into a family of strong faith, she grew up on a dairy farm, surrounded by loving parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. Emma was educated in local schools, and once taught in an Amish schoolhouse much like the one at Seven Poplars. When she’s not caring for her large family, reading and writing are her favorite pastimes.

Hannah’s Courtship

Emma Miller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

All these blessings will come on you and

accompany you if you obey the Lord your God.

—Deuteronomy 28:2

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Chapter One

April

Kent County, Delaware

Heart thumping, Hannah Yoder awoke with a start in her bed, barely catching her Bible before it tumbled off her lap to the floor. Still foggy with sleep, she placed the Good Book safely on the nightstand beside her bed and retrieved the reading glasses that must have fallen when she dozed off. What time was it? Glancing at the clock on the mantel over the fireplace, she saw that it was eleven-thirty.

I’m getting old and foolish, she thought, falling asleep with the propane lamp on. She never did that. A mother with a houseful of children had to be vigilant against accidental fires...especially when they lived in a two-hundred-year-old house.

And then she remembered that five of her girls were grown and married and the sixth was promised to the community’s new preacher. Where has the time gone? Only yesterday, I was a young woman with a husband and seven beautiful children, and today, I’m widowed and nearly fifty. In another month, there would be only her youngest daughter, Susanna, and her foster son, Irwin, left to share the big farmhouse.

Nearly midnight and she had to be up by five-thirty...She’d never been one to have trouble sleeping, but maybe the stress of preparing for Rebecca’s wedding was affecting her more than she realized. She reached up to turn off the lamp, but then a nagging uneasiness tugged at her and drew her from the bed. The floorboards were cold and she slid her bare feet into a pair of her late husband Jonas’s old fleece-lined slippers and reached for her flannel robe.

Something didn’t feel right. What had awakened her? Had she had a bad dream? One of her windows was open a crack, letting in a cool, damp breeze, but that wasn’t what had raised goose bumps on her arms. No, something was amiss.

She went to the window and stared out into the night. All was quiet in the farmyard. Common sense struggled with maternal instinct. Neither of the dogs had raised the alarm. True, their old sheepdog was somewhat hard of hearing, but Irwin’s terrier could hear a mouse squeak in the next county. There was certainly no intruder. What troubled her?

Hannah had always considered herself a calm, rational woman. One couldn’t remain sane raising a houseful of children and be prone to nervous fancies. She looked back at her bed, wanting nothing more than to crawl back under the covers and get a good night’s sleep. But she knew that she wouldn’t get a wink until she’d reassured herself that all was well.

Taking a flashlight from the nightstand, she switched it on. Nothing. Not even a faint glow. The batteries were dead. Again. Hannah sighed, guessing that Susanna had been playing with it.

The propane lamp was attached to the wall, so she took an old-fashioned kerosene lantern from the top of a dresser, lit it and, holding it high, padded into the hall. Quietly, feeling silly, she opened first one door and then the next. There was nothing out of place in the spare bedroom across from hers. No one in the downstairs bathroom. Green eyes peered back at Hannah from the settee in the parlor, and her heart skipped a beat.

Meow!

“Oscar.” She let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding. “Sorry.” The glowing green orbs blinked and the tomcat flattened his single remaining ear against his gray head and flicked his long tail back and forth, obviously annoyed at being disturbed when he was on duty.

The landing at the bottom of the main staircase was still, every item in place, the wood gleaming and free of dust. And no wonder, Susanna, the same careless daughter who’d used up the flashlight batteries, had spent all afternoon waxing the floor and furniture, polishing the oak balusters and steps, and sweeping away cobwebs.

A smile curved Hannah’s lips. Dear, precious Susanna, born with Down syndrome. Twenty-one and forever a child. Whatever Susanna did, she threw her whole heart and soul into it. That daughter, at least, would remain home with her. In spite of the challenges of mothering a special child, Hannah had always thought of Susanna as God’s gift, much more of a blessing than a worry.

The kitchen, warm and cozy from the fire in the woodstove, was as tidy as Hannah had left it when she’d gone up to bed at nine. Irwin’s shoes stood on the steps that led to the back stairway. Hannah opened the door to the staircase and smiled again. From the second floor came the loud, regular buzz of Irwin’s snoring. Hannah held the lantern up higher and called softly. “Jeremiah!”

She heard the patter of small feet, and the face of a scruffy terrier appeared at the top of the stairs. “It’s all right, Jeremiah,” she said, closing the door. If Jeremiah was on guard, no one had come unbidden into the house. She checked the back door, found it locked and retraced her steps to the front room. She’d found nothing to cause her concern, but she still wasn’t satisfied.

I’m being ridiculous. “I should just go back to bed,” she said, her voice louder than she intended. But she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she’d fully investigated the house. She started up to the second floor where Rebecca and Susanna slept. Susanna’s room first. Empty, as expected. Susanna had wanted her own bedroom because, in her own words, she was a woman grown. But, usually, she grew lonely at night and crawled into her sister’s bed.

The bathroom door stood open, the interior dark. The unused bedrooms presented a wall of closed doors, all latched from the hall side. No problem there. There was only Rebecca’s chamber left, where Hannah expected to find both of her girls fast asleep. It was a shame, really, to disturb them by opening the door and shining lamplight into their eyes. She did it anyway.

“Mam?” Rebecca stirred and raised a hand to shield her eyes. “What time is it? Did I oversleep?”

Hannah stepped into the room. Rebecca was alone in the four-poster bed. No Susanna. “Where’s your sister?” she asked, trying to keep the alarm out of her voice. “Where’s Susanna?”

“In her bed, I suppose.” Rebecca rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands. “She never came in. I thought—”

“Are you sure?” Hannah raised the lamp to see into the far corners of the room. “She’s not in her room.”

“Downstairs, maybe? Sometimes she gets hungry and—”

“Not in the bathroom. Not in the kitchen.” Hannah suppressed a shiver. “She’s not anywhere in the house.”

Rebecca scrambled out of bed and found her robe. “I don’t think she’d go outside. She’s afraid of the dark. She’s got to be here. Remember the time we thought she was lost and we found her asleep in the pantry?”

Hannah grimaced. “She was eight years old, and she was only missing for a little while. I went to bed at nine. I don’t know how long she’s—”

“We’ll find her.” Rebecca pulled on a pair of black wool stockings and took her sneakers out of a chifforobe. “You check the house again. I’ll look in the yard and barns.” She turned on a high-powered flashlight. Hannah was glad to know that Rebecca’s still had batteries.

Another search of the house, including the rooms over the kitchen, where Irwin slept, proved futile. Anxiously, Hannah stepped out onto the back porch. Rebecca, identified by the bobbing flashlight beam, was just coming out of the barn. “Is she there?” Hannah called.

“Ne.” Not Rebecca’s normal tone. Her voice was flat.

Hannah’s fear flared. Rebecca might not have found Susanna, but she’d discovered something she didn’t like. “What is it?” Hannah demanded, coming down the steps to the back walk. She hurried to the gate, gripping the gatepost to keep her balance. “What’s out there?”

“It’s what’s not there, Mam. The pony’s gone. And Dat’s courting buggy.”

Hannah stared at her. It was too dark to make out the expression on Rebecca’s face, but what she could make out from her tone confirmed Hannah’s alarm. Sensible Rebecca was as frightened as she was. “Susanna took the pony and cart,” Hannah said.

Rebecca gripped her mother’s arm. “Where would she go in the middle of the night?”

Hannah didn’t have to think twice. “David’s.”

David King, the only other person with Downs syndrome Susanna had ever met, was the apple of her eye. For months, Susanna had insisted that she loved King David, as she called him, and that she was going to marry him.

The Kings didn’t live far away, only a quarter of a mile from the end of the lane and to the right, on the opposite side of the county road. But Susanna wasn’t allowed to leave the farm alone, and she’d never driven a horse and buggy. Hannah hadn’t thought that Susanna could even hitch the pony to the cart. And to be out at night, going down a road that carried trucks and cars? Hannah shuddered, and prayed that God would watch over her.

“We’ll find her,” Rebecca said. “She’s fine. I’m sure of it. We haven’t heard any ambulances. You know how the dogs bark when a siren goes off. Wherever she is, Susanna is fine.”

“She won’t be when I catch up with her,” Hannah pronounced. Of all of her girls, Susanna was the last one that she had ever suspected would sneak out at night to see a boy. Johanna, maybe Miriam, or even Leah, but not Susanna. Susanna was an obedient daughter who always followed the rules. It had never been her youngest daughter that had given Hannah her few gray hairs...until now.

“Do you want me to hitch up Blackie?” Rebecca asked. “I’m not dressed, but—”

Hannah set her jaw. “I’m going to walk to the King’s house.”

“In your bathrobe?”

“We have to find her.” Hannah tightened the tie on her robe. “Every minute counts, and I trust the Lord will forgive me for my state of undress. Give me your flashlight.”

“I should go with you.”

“No, you stay here,” Hannah told her, taking the flashlight. “Just in case she comes back and I miss her.”

“I’ll light the lamps in the kitchen.” Rebecca went one way. Hannah another.

The dirt farm lane was a long one, and usually Hannah was grateful that her late husband had picked a place where the house was set far back off the road. Tonight, however, she wished it were a shorter driveway. Oh, Jonas, she thought. Why aren’t you here with me? In the five years since a sudden heart attack had taken him from her, she often wished he was still here by her side, but never more so than tonight. She wasn’t a weepy woman, but if she had been, she’d be inclined to sit down in the dirt and have a good cry.

She walked quickly, not bothering to call Susanna’s name. If she was coming up this lane, with or without the pony and cart, Hannah would have heard her. Instead, all she heard was the far-off wail of a freight train and the high chirping and deep bass croaks of early spring frogs.

The lights of a car whizzed past Hannah’s mailbox. Not far now. The Kings’ farm was dark. As with all the Old Order Amish in their community, David’s parents didn’t have electricity. Hannah had been hoping for the gleam of a kerosene lamp through an uncurtained window, but not a single glimmer showed.

Hannah’s anxiety increased with every step. “Susanna,” she murmured. “Where are you?” If she wasn’t at the Kings’ house and she wasn’t on the road between here and there, Hannah would have to wake her sons-in-law and maybe send Irwin to the chair shop to use the business phone. Calling the English authorities wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly. If an eight-year-old Amish child had been missing at night, it would be considered acceptable. Though Susanna might technically be twenty-one, her maturity level was closer to that of a second-grader.

At the end of the lane, a grove of cedar trees blocked her line of vision on the right. There was no moon tonight, and even with the flashlight, it was difficult to see. Hannah had just turned onto the shoulder of the road when she saw a bobbling light a few hundred feet away. “Susanna?” she called. No answer. Hannah called again. “Susanna!” Please, God, she prayed silently. Let it be her. Let her be safe.

Whoever it was, they were coming slowly, and Hannah couldn’t hear hoof beats or the grate of buggy wheels on the pavement. She hurried toward the light. “Susanna?”

“Mam?”

Relief jolted through Hannah with a physical impact. She broke into a run. “Susanna, are you all right?”

“She’s fine!” came a reply in a deep male voice.

“I’m fine.”

That was Susanna’s voice, but who was with her? Hannah stopped short and aimed the flashlight toward the approaching group: Susanna, short and round, bouncing along in her flat-footed, side-to-side stride and a larger, lumbering figure behind her.

A pickup truck approached, slowed and passed. In the glow of the headlight, Hannah saw a third person, a tall Englisher in a baseball cap leading Hannah’s black-and-white pony. No, she decided, not just any Englisher. She recognized that voice. “Albert Hartman? Is that you?” She started toward them again, not running this time, but walking fast.

In another moment, she had her arms around a sobbing Susanna. Her daughter was trying to tell her something, but she quickly dissolved into hysterics. Because Susanna’s speech was never clear to begin with, Hannah had trouble understanding what her daughter was trying to tell her.

“Crash,” David supplied. He was a young man of few words. “Bam,” he said. “Ina ditch.”

Hannah gazed over Susanna’s head. “Are you hurt, David?” she asked. “What about Taffy? Is the pony—”

“Not a scratch, so far as I can tell. It could have been a lot worse.”

Hannah accepted Albert’s opinion without hesitation. Not only was he a longtime family friend, but he was a local veterinarian. She turned her attention back to her daughter. “Why did you go out at night?” Hannah demanded. “And what made you take Taffy?”

“Pizza,” David said. “We wanted pizza.” He shook his head. “Mam gonna be mad at me. Ya.” He nodded his head. “Really mad.”

“I was so worried. Come on,” Hannah urged. “Let’s get off this road before we’re all killed.” She held tight to Susanna, unwilling to let her go now that she’d found her. Adrenaline still pumped through Hannah’s veins, and she felt vaguely sick to her stomach.

“Good idea,” Albert said.

Together, they walked back to Hannah’s lane. Once away from the blacktop, she loosened her grip on Susanna’s arm and merely held her hand. “Albert,” Hannah said, “how did you find them? Where did you find them?”

“Half a mile on the other side of the Kings’ place,” he said. “I was coming back from a call. A cow having twins was in a bit of trouble. Two pretty little heifers, both right as rain once we got their legs untangled and got them delivered. Anyway, I was just on my way home when I saw Jonas’s courting buggy in the ditch and these two standing there beside it.”

“A car came,” Susanna wailed. “It scared Taffy. She jumped in the ditch.”

“The buggy rolled over on its side,” Albert explained. “A wheel is broken, but the carriage seems okay. I was more concerned for Susanna and David.”

“Not David’s fault,” Susanna stoutly defended. “He drove good. The car beeped and scared Taffy.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “David drove?”

Susanna nodded.

They continued to walk up the long drive. “But, Daughter, you snuck out of the house.”

Susanna shook her head. “Ne. I didn’t.”

“You did,” Hannah said. “Did David come to the farm and hitch Taffy to the buggy?”

“Ya,” Susanna said, but David was shaking his head. “Hush,” Susanna ordered, shaking her finger at him. “You said!”

Confused, Hannah glanced at Albert, who shrugged. “I couldn’t get a straight story out of them, either. They were both crying when I got there. The pony was tangled in the traces.”

“It was God’s mercy that you found them,” Hannah said. The pony belonged to her daughter Miriam, but she stabled it at the home barn so that Rebecca and Hannah had the use of it. They were all very fond of Taffy, and the thought that the animal could have been badly injured or killed by Susanna’s carelessness made Hannah angry. “I’m disappointed in you, Susanna,” she said sharply. “Very, very disappointed.”

Susanna hung her head. Tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped at them with dirty hands, but Hannah wasn’t feeling sympathetic.

“What you did was wrong and dangerous,” Hannah chided. “You, David or Taffy could have been killed.”

“We...we wanted pizza,” Susanna mumbled. “You never...never let us go get...get pizza.”

“I like pizza,” David declared.

The sound of an approaching horse and buggy caught Hannah’s attention. “That’s got to be Rebecca,” she explained to Albert. “Where’s your truck?”

“I left it on the side of the road by the buggy.”

Hannah nodded. “I can send Charley and Eli to get the buggy in the morning.”

“No worry,” Albert said. “I called Tony’s Towing.”

“But that will cost dearly,” Hannah said. Did she even have the money for a tow truck?

“Don’t worry about it.” Albert gave her a reassuring grin. “Tony owes me for stitching up his Labrador’s hind leg last week when he got it caught in the screen door. There won’t be a charge. He’ll have the buggy back in your barn within the hour.”

Rebecca reined in Blackie, and Susanna pulled away from Hannah to run and tell her sister about her adventure. David stood patiently where he was, waiting for Susanna or someone to tell him what to do.

Hannah glanced back at Albert. “You walked right past David’s house. Why didn’t you leave him there?”

Albert tugged off his ball cap and looked sheepish. “He wouldn’t go. Susanna wanted him with her, and I thought maybe you’d be uneasy about me bringing her home alone. You know, how it would look to the community...”

“How it would look? When you saved both of them from who knows what? Albert, you may not be Amish, but we trust you. You’ll never know how grateful I am that it was you who came along when I needed you most.”

“I suppose it was meant to be,” Albert offered slowly. “His plan. I’m just glad I could help.”

Rebecca climbed down out of the buggy, and Hannah quickly filled her in on what had happened. “We’ll tie Taffy to the back and take her to the barn, and put Susanna to bed,” she continued. “Albert and I are going to walk David home—”

“No need for you to put yourself out.” Albert started to lead the pony around to the back of the buggy. “I can take David home.”

“Ne, Albert,” Hannah replied. She gave Susanna a gentle push in Rebecca’s direction. “I need to come. David’s mother has to know what he was up to. I don’t think she’ll be any more pleased with this night’s mischief than I am.”

Chapter Two

All I need now is for Bishop Atlee to drive past and see me walking down the road after midnight in my bathrobe and house slippers—accompanied by two men, Hannah thought wryly.

She supposed the wisest thing would have been for her to go back to the house and get dressed, but that would have taken more of Albert’s time, and the Yoder family had already put him out a great deal tonight. Her oversize wool scarf and dark blue, ankle-length bathrobe covered more of her than her everyday dresses. She might not be conventionally garbed for an Amish woman, but no one could say she wasn’t decently covered.

She was sure that Albert, a Mennonite born-and-bred, with more than the usual allotment of sense for a man, would understand her stretching the rules of proper dress due to the emergency. After all, wasn’t Albert practically a member of the family? His nephew, John, was married to her daughter Grace.

Albert had been a friend and veterinarian to the Seven Poplars Amish community for many years, and as long as Hannah had known him, he’d always treated her with the greatest respect. To put a fine point on it, Albert treated her as an equal, as a person with a brain in her head. She was certain that Albert wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with her under these circumstances.

It was a short walk from her mailbox to the driveway of the Kings’ farmhouse. Only one motor vehicle passed them, a small car, not the tow truck that Albert had called to bring the disabled buggy home. She and Albert kept their pace slow enough for David, who was often distracted and had to be reminded to stay on the shoulder. David never did anything quickly, and any attempt to hurry him would have triggered upset and possibly tears. Hannah had no wish to deliver him to his parents in an emotional dither.

Hannah liked David, and she liked his mother and father. They’d done a good job raising him, and she was sure that he’d never given them reason to think he’d sneak out with a girl to go to Dover. Tonight would be an awakening for the Kings as much as it was for her. David and Susanna, who had always been obedient, had suddenly become problem children.

Fifteen minutes later, Hannah and Albert were back at the spot where Hannah’s driveway met the road. David was safely in the care of his parents, and everyone had agreed that nothing good would come from trying to hash this mess out tonight. Albert had insisted on walking Hannah home, although that had felt silly. She was a woman in her late forties, a schoolteacher and a mother who’d been managing her farm and her affairs for years. She was certainly capable of following her own lane back to her home without an escort.

“Call me old-fashioned,” Albert said, trudging along beside her. He hadn’t been put out by her objection. If anything, he sounded amused. “I just wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t see you safely to your door.” When she didn’t answer, he went on. “It’s not the same world we grew up in, Hannah. You read the papers. All kinds of craziness going on.”

“I try to stay away from the world as much as possible,” she replied. It was what her Amish faith taught. Be not of this world. The Amish were a people apart, living not so much for today as for their future in heaven.

Albert was a member of the Mennonite Church, another Anabaptist sect that shared a long history with the Amish. The two faiths had separated before they came to America in the eighteenth century. The Amish believed that the Mennonites were too worldly, and Amish founders felt it necessary to remain separate. Today, the Mennonites did charity work with the general public and spread their religion through worldwide missions. The Amish kept to themselves and did not evangelize.

Hannah herself had been born and raised in the more liberal Mennonite faith, but she’d become Amish when she married Jonas Yoder. Although it had cost her dearly, she’d never regretted her decision.

“Wickedness,” Albert continued. “Riots, bombings. People using violence against their neighbors.”

“I hardly think there’s going to be a riot in my farmyard tonight,” she teased. “My sister-in-law Martha isn’t all that fond of me, but I doubt even she wants to harm me. And my other neighbors are my daughters, my sons-in-law and my grandchildren, so I feel pretty safe.”

“You hear stuff on the news every day. I can’t help but worry.”

“Maybe you should stop listening to the radio and watching television.”

“Evil happens.”

“Ya,” she conceded. “It does. The best we can do is to live according to our conscience, treat one another as the Bible teaches us and pray that God will see to the rest.”

“I suppose.” Albert was a middling-size man, broad shouldered, with a sturdy body, chestnut-brown hair and a pleasant face. Usually, he walked with a vigorous stride, making him seem younger than his fifty-odd years, but since his father’s death two months ago, Albert had lost the spring in his step.

Hannah and most of the Amish community had attended the funeral, and everyone had noted how hard Albert had taken the elderly man’s passing. It was natural, she supposed. Albert had never married, and he and his father had lived together ever since Albert had joined the veterinary practice. Maybe Albert was lonely, Hannah thought. John had moved out when he finished building his new house, and now Albert lived alone. His days were full of work, but maybe he missed having someone at the supper table to swap stories with.

“Don’t tell me you aren’t worried about Susanna,” he said. “I know better. You’re a woman who’s always put her children first. I’ve always admired that about you, Hannah, that you are such a great mother. And the way your girls turned out proves that you did most things right.”

Hannah’s throat tightened and she concentrated on the beam of light on the ground in front of them. Rebecca’s flashlight was a good one, and it was easy to follow the hard-packed gravel drive. For the first time, she felt a little uncomfortable around Albert. She wasn’t used to discussing private matters with outsiders. Although he’d proven himself to be a good friend to both her and her late husband, this subject was awkward. “I do worry about Susanna’s future, naturally,” she admitted stiffly. “But I have to trust in God’s plan for her.”

“You think He has a plan for each of us?”

“Of course.” She was so surprised that she stopped walking and stared at him. “Don’t you?” She knew that Albert was a faithful member of his church, and she’d assumed that he felt the same way.

“Sometimes I think so. But sometimes...”

She heard him exhale slowly.

“Sometimes I wonder if God spoke to me but I didn’t listen... If I’ve waited too late to do what I should have done years ago.”

She pressed her hand against her midsection to keep from touching him. Albert was obviously distressed. Had he been one of her children or sons-in-law, she would have reached out to him to touch his shoulder or take his hand, but they were alone. It wasn’t proper that she have physical contact with a man not related to her. “In what way?” she asked. “How do you feel that you failed?”

He went on, not directly answering her question. “Getting through college was hard for me. I didn’t want to borrow money, so I worked two jobs and attended classes full-time. I never had time for dating. And, then when I got into vet school, it was a struggle for me to keep up my grades.”

“And after you graduated? Did you think of marriage then?” Standing outside the circle cast by the flashlight, Albert was a dark, indefinite figure. Hannah knew that she was intruding on his privacy, but out of compassion, she persisted.

“I tried to make up for lost time. I went out with different women, but I was too focused on my veterinary practice. I just wasn’t ready to settle down.”

“And now you regret not marrying and having children?”

“I think when a man hits fifty, he begins to realize that this is it. His life is more than half over. I’ve always loved taking care of animals, but there’s something missing in my life.”

“Have you talked to your preacher about this? Or to John?”

“No.”

She and Jonas had wondered why a good man like Albert had never married. Among the Amish, a man or woman remaining single was almost unheard of. She remembered that some time back, before Jonas had died, Albert had kept company with a lady dentist in Dover. The couple had often gone to fund-raiser breakfasts and school auctions together. But, then, Jonas had come home one day and said that the Englisher dentist had married. Not Albert Hartman, but a lawyer.

Not knowing what to say, Hannah walked on a short distance until she came to the edge of the farmyard. “We’re here,” she said, “and it looks pretty quiet. No rioters.” She smiled at him. “I really appreciate what you’ve done for me—for Susanna—tonight.”

He stood there a moment. “I suppose I should get back to the buggy. The tow truck will be there, and the driver might need help loading it.” He glanced toward the house. “You can lock up. I’ll see that he delivers the buggy. No need for you to wait up.”

Hannah found herself yawning. She nodded. Tomorrow was a school day, and she’d have to be up early. Before she left, she’d have to confront Susanna, and she wasn’t looking forward to that. “Thanks, again, Albert. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t helped.”

“Don’t say another word. Like I said, Hannah, I’m just happy that I came along when I did.”

Leaving Albert by the gate, she went into the house. Rebecca and Susanna had already gone up to bed. She returned to her bedroom, removed her robe and slippers, and knelt in prayer. If there was ever a night that she needed to give thanks to God, this was it.

* * *

Because it was overcast and threatening to rain when she left home in the morning, Hannah didn’t take the shortcut across the pasture to the Seven Poplars School as she usually did. Instead, she hitched up Blackie and drove the family buggy. Teaching twenty-six children in eight grades in one room wasn’t easy, but she’d been doing it for five years.

When Jonas had suddenly died of a heart attack, she had not wanted to have to rent out her farmland or sell off any acreage. She’d known that a woman with six girls and no menfolk couldn’t make enough off the crops to survive, so she’d convinced Bishop Atlee and the church elders to allow her to take the open schoolteacher’s job.

Teachers were usually young single women, but Atlee had thought highly of Jonas, and he’d agreed. Hannah had been thankful to be given the opportunity, and she’d always believed that Atlee Bontrager’s decision had been influenced, at least in part, by his fondness and admiration for Jonas.

The school had been a good fit for Hannah. She loved the challenge of teaching, and she loved the children. An added bonus was that being so close to home meant that she could keep a close eye on her own family while working. The pay in the church school wasn’t much, but it was enough to provide independence for Hannah and her daughters. Having a steady income was the reason that she’d gone against custom and had remained unmarried after the usual period of mourning had passed.

The day turned out to be an unusually hectic one. She sent Joey Beachy home at noon when he’d thrown up on the playground. She’d asked Irwin, who was Joey’s cousin, to walk the child back to the Beachy farm. Naturally, Joey had walked to school that morning, but it had been with his brothers and sisters, and Hannah hadn’t felt right sending him home alone. Irwin was delighted. Hannah doubted that she’d see him again until suppertime. Her foster son didn’t like school, and ensuring that he received a standard education had been her cross to bear.

She gave a math test to her combined fifth and sixth-graders, and directed rehearsals for the program done every year for parents and friends. Naturally, none of the boys had memorized their parts, and the walk-through for the skit had ended in tears when two sisters each wanted the same role. Hannah was glad that it was a busy day, because it gave her less time to worry about what she would say to David King’s parents.

As soon as the last child had departed at the end of the school day, Hannah drove directly to the King house. Though she still had to contend with a tearful Susanna at home again, it seemed wisest to first discuss the incident with David’s mother, Sadie. That way, the two mothers could present a united front. Something had to be done. David and Susanna couldn’t go on pretending that they were walking out together.

All the way there, Hannah hoped that Ebben, David’s father, would be out of the house. This was women’s business, and having Ebben be part of the conversation would make it more awkward for her. Sadie was a good, loving mother and a fine friend. Surely, she and Sadie could put an end to this behavior without harming either of their children.

“Come in, come in.” Sadie must have been watching for her because the stocky little woman came out the side door as soon as Hannah drove up the lane. “Ebben!” Sadie called. “Take Hannah’s horse.” And then to Hannah, “Let Ebben see to him. You come in and have some of the applesauce cake I just took out of the oven.”

Sadie’s kitchen was smaller than her own, but just as clean. Simple white linen tiebacks hung at the windows, and pale yellow walls brightened the room. A round oak table with four chairs stood in the center of the room. Overhead hung a white kerosene lamp decorated with faded red roses, lit now against the gray afternoon.

“Tea?” Sadie asked. “Or coffee?”

“Coffee, if it’s no trouble,” Hannah responded.

Sadie bustled around, reminding Hannah of a banty hen in her gray dress, black stockings and white kapp and apron. Sadie’s clothing still reflected the Amish community that they’d lived in before they’d moved to Delaware. Her kapp was sewn slightly different, her skirt and apron were longer and she wore high-topped black leather shoes, rather than the black canvas sneakers most women in Seven Poplars wore in the summer.

Sadie poured the coffee and brought a tiny pottery cream pitcher and matching sugar bowl to the table. She sliced generous pieces of applesauce cake and placed them beside the coffee mugs. “Honey or sugar?” she asked. “I like raw sugar, but Ebben and David do love that honey your Johanna brought us at Christmas.”

Hannah was eager to see what David’s parents thought about the previous night’s misbehavior. Still, it would have been rude to jump right into the subject. First, news of children’s and grandchildren’s health and activities had to be exchanged, and Hannah had to tell Sadie about the plans for the school picnic. Sadie asked what Hannah was bringing for the shared meal after morning church service on Sunday, and when Hannah said potato salad with peas, Sadie wanted the recipe.

Hannah forced herself to at least appear relaxed, but she couldn’t help glancing around. Ebben remained outside, and there was no sign of David. “David’s outside with the chickens,” Sadie said as she refilled Hannah’s coffee cup. “Would you like another piece of cake?” Hannah shook her head. “David loves chickens,” Sadie continued. “Ebben says he can coax two eggs a day out of those hens. David’s a good boy.”

Hannah nodded. “I know he is.”

Sadie’s right hand trembled as she reached for the sugar. She clenched her fingers into a fist and buried it in the folds of her starched apron. “He’s a sweet boy, Hannah, a really gentle soul.”

Hannah murmured in agreement. “So is my Susanna.”

Sadie knotted her fingers together. Her faded blue eyes grew misty with tears. “When David was born, the midwife told me that he was a Mongoloid.”

Hannah winced. The term was wrong. Ugly. “Downs,” she corrected softly. “With Down syndrome. Like my Susanna.”

“She wasn’t Amish. The midwife. ‘He might not live,’ she said. ‘A lot of times babies like him have a bad heart. It might be a blessing if he did—’ My Ebben, he’s quiet, like David. But he got so mad at that woman. ‘Don’t you say that!’ he said. ‘Don’t you say such things about our beautiful son.’ And he was beautiful, Hannah. He had this mop of yellow hair, as yellow as May butter, big blue eyes and the sweetest look on his face.”

“My husband always said that Susanna was a blessing from God.”

Sadie nodded eagerly. “Ebben asked that midwife to leave and not come back. We took David to a baby doctor at a big hospital. He told us that David would grow and learn like any other child. But he never said what a good boy David would be. He’s never been willful.” She hesitated. “It’s why we never thought that David would ever...”

“Sneak out at night?”

“Our older son, now that one. When he was Rumspringa—he was a caution. Sowing his wild oats, Ebben always said. And if David wasn’t...didn’t have Downs, we would have expected him to...”

“But he does. They do.” Hannah swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “We’ve always protected Susanna, kept her close. She’s afraid of the dark. Running off to buy pizza...” Hannah exhaled softly. “I don’t know what to do. They just have this idea that—”

“That they’re courting,” Sadie finished. “I know. I know it’s crazy, but David is very fond of your Susanna. He talks about her all the time.”

“They could have been killed in that buggy accident.”

“I know. I couldn’t get a wink of sleep last night. David’s driven in the field and in the yard, but never a horse on the road. He doesn’t understand the danger of motor vehicles. It’s a blessing your pony wasn’t injured when the buggy went into the ditch.”

Both women were quiet for a moment.

“The question is,” Hannah said, “what do we do about them? I almost sent her to Brazil to visit Leah and her husband. I thought that maybe a few months away from David and—”

Sadie cut her off absently. “He was sick. When he was little. Cancer. We thought we were going to lose him. But God was good. The doctors...”

She raised her gaze to meet Hannah’s. “He can’t ever be a father, our David. The doctors said it’s impossible. Some boys with his...with Downs... But for certain with David. He’ll never be able to...you know.”

“Oh.” Hannah almost said she was sorry, but was she? Was that a blessing, considering David’s difficulty in taking care of his own needs? And why was Sadie sharing that? What did it have to do with Susanna and David sneaking off at night?

“I was just thinking,” Sadie said. “Ebben’s cousin’s daughter Janet, she’s slow. Not Downs. Not like Susanna or David. But she can’t read, can hardly count to twenty. David can, you know. He can read, too. Easy books and The Budget. He loves to read The Budget to us in the evenings.”

Hannah waited, wondering what Sadie’s point was.

“Janet, she got to an age where she wanted to be like her sisters, wanted to walk out with boys and go to the singings and the frolics. And pretty soon, she had herself a beau.”

“What did her parents do?”

“They talked to their bishop and their church elders, and they all decided that the best thing to do, considering...”

Hannah shifted in her seat. “Was?”

“To let them get married.”

“Get married?” Hannah repeated.

Sadie nodded.

“Are you suggesting that—” Hannah stopped and started again. “Are you saying that you think that David and my daughter—” She took a moment to compose herself. “Sadie, Susanna and David could never be married and live alone. They could never live a married life.”

Sadie pressed her lips together. “Maybe not the same married life we’ve had, but...” She looked down at her hands, then back up Hannah. “I’m not saying we should give them permission to court. I just think it’s something we need to keep in the back of our minds.”

Chapter Three

Albert pulled into the long driveway that led through the trees to his nephew John’s new log-cabin-style home. He glanced at his watch as he pulled into a spot in front of the porch. He was right on time.

He’d had a good day, considering that he’d had less sleep last night than usual; by the time he’d returned from the Yoder farm, it had been after two in the morning. Not that he minded. As a matter of fact, he’d enjoyed the little adventure. Of course, he was concerned for Hannah’s daughter and her friend. Thankfully, everyone was safe. No harm done.

And his day had turned out to be an easy one. Besides the four routine calls for immunizations, he’d stitched up a pig’s snout, and done a physical examination on a nice-looking colt. With the new vet that he and his nephew had hired tending to the small-animal portion of the practice, he was free to spend his time where his heart was, with large-animal cases: cows, horses, pigs, sheep and goats.

John and his wife, Grace, stepped out onto the porch and waved. Albert felt a rush of pride. He’d never fathered a child, but John was as close to being a son as a man could ask for. And the wife he’d chosen, Grace Yoder, had come to the marriage with a bright-eyed little boy who had eased his way into Albert’s heart.

Albert walked around the truck, opened the passenger door and let his dog out. From the floor, he took a bag containing a junior-size pair of binoculars he’d found while poking around in his attic. They had been John’s when he’d been around Dakota’s age, and he thought the boy might like them.

“Come in, Uncle Albert,” Grace called. “Supper’s ready. My spaghetti and Johanna’s yeast rolls. Your favorite.” She led them into the house and the dog trotted behind them. “She sent them home with me when I went to pick up ’Kota.”

“Where is the little rascal?” Albert looked around. “I brought him these.” He held out the binoculars.

“He’s not here,” Grace explained. “Johanna invited him to stay overnight with Jonah, and I couldn’t pry him away.”

“He’ll be sorry he missed you. But I know he’ll love these. I remember when Gramps bought the binoculars for me,” John said, taking them from Albert and peering through them. “The two of us used to go bird-watching on Sundays after church.”

“I’ll just finish up in the kitchen,” Grace said with a smile. “You two catch up on vet talk.” She hurried away, auburn ponytail swinging behind her.

Albert grinned at John. “I like that girl more every time I see her. You picked a winner. I’m just going to wash up.” He pointed toward the half bath in the hall.

John bent to pat the dog’s head. “I did, didn’t I?” he said. “Grace has made me happy, really happy.”

Albert paused at the bathroom door. “You’d have to be crazy if you weren’t happy, with her and ’Kota.”

Albert entered the small room, switched on the light and closed the door behind him. Funny, he thought as he soaped his hands, how much life there seemed to be inside the walls of this house. He looked into the round mirror. “Love inside these walls,” he murmured half under his breath. For days, he’d been looking forward to sharing this evening meal with the three of them. Home was pretty lonely without Pop there now, just him and old Blue and the two cats that had somehow wormed their way into the family.

Blue had been a hard-luck case just like the cats, and had turned out to be one of the best snap decisions he’d ever made. Not a lot of people wanted a three-legged coon hound that couldn’t hunt anymore, but he and Blue suited each other just fine. Without Blue... Albert sighed. Dogs had short lives, compared to humans, but most folks couldn’t help getting deeply attached to them, and he’d be the first to admit he was guilty.

Grace was still in the kitchen when he joined John at the long pine table in the dining room. As she had predicted, they each had stories of the day’s patients and their owners to share. Albert settled into a chair, took a sip from the glass of iced tea John had given him and studied the spacious room.

The log walls, the heavy log beams and wood floors gave the place a real flavor, and Grace and John had furnished it with a mixture of vintage pieces, such as a beautiful refinished icebox and a scarred church pew, mixed with a few antiques. Nothing was fancy. So far as he knew, the young couple didn’t own a television. Other than the laptop, which lay on a maple desk in the living room, and electricity, the house could have been from another century.

“So what’s this I hear about you coming to the Yoders’ rescue last night?” John asked.

“Amish telegraph?” Albert asked with a chuckle.

John laughed. “Johanna told Grace. I can’t imagine Susanna and David King out on the road at night with a pony. It’s a wonder something worse didn’t happen to them.”

Albert leaned back in the chair. “I came along at the right time. Whoever ran them into that ditch kept going. But it might teach those kids a lesson and keep them out of worse trouble.”

Grace came to the table with individual bowls of garden salad. “Susanna’s never done anything like that before. I’ve never known her to get into any kind of trouble. She’s such a sweet girl.”

“You think it’s serious, David and Susanna?” John asked Grace. “They seem to spend a lot of time together.”

“I don’t know,” she answered.

“It worries Hannah,” Albert said. “We got to talk some when we walked David back to his house. You’ve got to admire Hannah for the job she’s done with your sister. It can’t have been easy. David’s parents, too. From what I’ve seen of him, he seems like a good boy. But Hannah’s alone. She’s had to go through all this dating and courtship stuff with all of her girls all by herself since Jonas passed away.”

A timer went off in the kitchen. “That’s the pasta,” Grace explained. “Supper’s coming up as soon as I can drain them.”

“Is the buggy a total loss?” John asked.

Albert shook his head. “No, not at all. A new axle should fix it good as new. Hannah was fortunate in that, too.”

“That’s great,” John sipped his tea. “Buggies are expensive, and I know the family thinks a lot of that one. Grace said her father brought it from Pennsylvania when he was courting Hannah.”

Grace returned with plates of spaghetti, meatballs and sauce, and John jumped up to bring in the bread and butter. Everyone took their seats, they bowed their heads for a silent grace, Amish-style, and then they began to enjoy the delicious meal. It seemed that all three of them had had a good day. Grace had scored well on a test at the community college where she was studying to be a vet tech, and John had successfully delivered a litter of four healthy Cavalier King Charles Spaniels by caesarean section.

As they finished supper, Albert remembered the box of cookies he’d picked up at the German bakery. “Wait right here,” he said. “I brought dessert. It won’t take a moment to fetch it.”

“We won’t be able to walk away from the table,” Grace teased.

“Then you can just roll me out of the house.” Albert got out of his chair. “But I’ll bounce down the steps with a grin on my face.”

“Uncle Albert, I’ll get them.” Grace put her hand on his shoulder as she passed him. “You sit. I forgot to pick up the mail, and I have to walk right past your truck. Come on, Blue,” she called to the dog. “Want to take a walk?”

John refilled Albert’s glass, Albert sat down again and John shared a joke Milly had told him. Albert laughed so hard he almost choked on his iced tea.

“You’re in a good mood tonight,” John said thoughtfully. “We’ve been worried about you since Gramps died. You really haven’t seemed like yourself.”

“It’s not easy losing your father. He had his health problems, and I know he was right with his salvation. But I do miss him every day.”

“I miss him, too,” John agreed. “Without him—without the two of you—I wouldn’t be where I am today. I’d never have gotten through school if—”

“Now, none of that,” Albert said, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “You would have found your way.” Still, John’s admission warmed him inside. “You’re right, though. I have been down in the dumps. Maybe some of it is realizing that when the older generation passes on, I’m suddenly at the top of the hill looking down.”

John laughed. “You’re what, Uncle Albert? Fifty-five? That’s hardly over the hill.”

“Fifty-six in July.” Albert grimaced. “Sound like I’m eighty-five sometimes, don’t I? I should be around Dakota more. Kids keep you young.”

John leaned forward. “Have you ever thought about moving in with us? We could build a whole basement suite and even put in a minikitchen, if you don’t want to eat with us regularly.”

Albert laid his hand over John’s. “I have thought about it. I really appreciate the offer, but you and Grace need time and space to build your own family.”

John nodded. “You’re sure?”

Albert nodded.

“Well, if you ever change your mind, the offer stands. We’d love to have you here, and it wouldn’t hurt to have a built-in babysitter.” They both laughed.

“I’ll manage on my own just fine,” Albert assured him.

“I know you will. I just worry. Maybe you need a hobby. Something to occupy your time when you’re not working.” John met Albert’s gaze. “Because you can’t just work, go to church and come here for dinner once a week. You need something more.”

“Like what? Playing golf? Jet skiing?”

Again they laughed, because while many men his age might take up either, they weren’t and never would be choices Albert would make.

Grace and Blue returned to the house, and then they enjoyed the cookies. It was eight forty-five when Albert drove away. As he turned onto the blacktop, he glanced back at the house. John was right. He had been happier tonight than he’d been since before Pop’s health had taken a turn for the worse. It didn’t pay for a man to brood on what he didn’t have. Maybe John was right; maybe he needed a hobby. He needed something, but that something wasn’t moving in with John’s family.

He had his work: hard, stressful and challenging. He had friends, John, Grace and Dakota, as well as a great staff. He had his faith, so why did he feel that something was lacking in his life? Was it something—or someone? Maybe fifty-five wasn’t over the hill. If he put his mind to it, maybe he could find a way to be happier every day.

He’d actually been thinking about taking up a hobby, of sorts. One of his elderly clients had been the one to plant the seed in his mind and had been generous enough to offer to help get him started. The idea definitely interested him. The thing was, he would need some help.

One person immediately came to mind.

But did he dare ask her?

* * *

Hannah let the school children out early on Friday. There were only a few full days left before the end-of-year picnic that marked the beginning of summer vacation. The English public schools ended in June, but Amish children were needed to help with spring planting. The Seven Poplars School began in September and closed at the end of April. Amish students had fewer vacation days during the year so that they could satisfy the state education requirements and still be finished early. For several of Hannah’s students, this, their eighth year, would be their last. They would go on to learn a trade and begin their vocational training.

This should have been her foster son, Irwin’s, final year of formal schooling, but she had yet to decide if he would be among the graduates. Irwin had never been a scholar. He’d come to her when he was twelve, already far behind his classmates, and each milestone in his education had been a hard-won goal. Hannah wasn’t satisfied with Irwin’s math skills or his reading comprehension, but she also worried that another year in the back of her classroom would make little difference. Irwin was tired of being shown up by younger students.

Hannah cared deeply about the orphaned boy. Although he had shown little natural ability at caring for animals or general farm work, Irwin had a good heart. She felt instinctively that he needed male guidance to help him develop the skills that would enable him to support himself and, someday, a family.

Hannah supposed that she’d done well enough for her daughters after her husband’s passing, but she was beginning to wonder if she would have been wiser to remarry, as everyone had urged her. Few widows in their forties remained single after the customary year of mourning. Maybe she’d been selfish and a little proud to think that she could fill Jonas’s shoes. What was the old saying? A woman might be the heart of the family, but the man was the head.

After the children had spilled out of the schoolhouse doors and run, walked or ridden their scooter push-bikes home, Hannah packed up to leave. There was plenty to do to prepare the school for the coming celebration, but the weather was so warm, the air so full of spring and the earth so green, Hannah couldn’t bear to remain cooped up inside another moment. This was her favorite time of the year, when new life sprang from every inch of field and forest, a time when she felt that anything was possible.

Whistling a spritely tune, a habit for which she had been chastised many times as a child, Hannah walked down the dirt lane, across a clearing and climbed the stile that marked the boundary between her son-in-law Samuel’s dairy farm and her own place. What would she do when she got home? Rebecca was at Miriam and Ruth’s place and wouldn’t be coming home for supper, and Irwin had gone off with his cousins, so it would be just her and Susanna.

When they’d parted after breakfast, Susanna had been unnaturally subdued, still unhappy about the punishment that Hannah had given her after the pizza escapade two days before. She’d forbidden Susanna from seeing David for an entire week.

Hannah had not, however, spoken to Susanna about her visit with David’s mother. In fact, she hadn’t spoken of it to anyone. Hannah couldn’t imagine what Sadie was thinking bringing up the idea of Susanna and David marrying. It was, of course, not possible. David would never learn a trade or how to farm; Susanna was unable to run a household. They certainly couldn’t be married.

Hannah pushed the whole idea from her mind, returning to thoughts of her pouting daughter. Susanna hadn’t been happy about the forced separation between her and David, but Hannah was determined to be firm. She couldn’t allow Susanna to do as she pleased. Her daughter’s judgment had been poor, and she had to suffer the consequences. Still, Hannah wasn’t angry with her, and she was determined to find something special and fun for the two of them to do together this afternoon.

* * *

“Ne, Mam. Going to Anna’s.” Susanna held up a book. “Naomi wants it.” She moved to the nearest bookshelf and began to straighten the books. “I will eat supper with Anna. She said.”

Hannah didn’t know whether to be amused or feel rebuffed. Susanna’s reply had been only mildly intoned, but her expression was a stubborn “So there, Mam!” It was clear to Hannah that her daughter was still out of sorts with her over the whole David King mishap and was determined to exert her independence. Somehow, in Susanna’s mind, sneaking out of the house and the accident with the buggy had been Hannah’s fault and not hers.

“I’m the li-bair-ian,” Susanna said. “I can’t stay here. Have to take the book to Naomi.”

Hannah folded her arms. “I see.” Clearly, what Grace had said recently was true. Susanna had always developed slower than her sisters, but at almost twenty-one, she had charged headlong into her own form of independence.

When Hannah had turned their unused milk house into a lending library for the local Amish community, she’d suggested that Susanna become the librarian. She’d hoped the responsibility would give Susanna a sense of self-worth. Despite her struggles with the written word, Susanna had taken to the job with great enthusiasm. She could read only a little, and Hannah suspected that much of Susanna’s pleasure from the library came from arranging the books by color and requiring users to print their names and the borrowed titles in a large journal.

Susanna and the whole family enjoyed providing suitable books for their neighbors, adults and children alike. But what Hannah hadn’t expected was that David King would become an almost daily visitor to Susanna’s library, or that the two of them would spend so many hours in the small building laughing and talking together. Hannah was afraid that David was borrowing so many books as an excuse to see Susanna, something definitely against the rules for Amish young people of marriageable age. The trouble was, how did she put an end to an innocent friendship?

“You’re walking across the field, aren’t you?” Hannah asked, more as a reminder than a question. “You aren’t walking down the road?”

“Ya. The pasture. I can do it by myself.”

“Be home by seven. Ask one of the twins to walk back with you.”

“By myself, Mam.” Susanna threw her a look so much like her sister Johanna’s that Hannah smiled.

“All right. By yourself, but be careful, Susanna. No talking to strangers.”

Susanna giggled and folded her arms in a mirror image of Hannah. “No strangers in the pasture.”

Hannah sighed. “No, I suppose there aren’t. But be careful, just the same.” Feeling a little out of sorts with herself, Hannah left the library and went back into the house. There, she looked around for something out of place or something that needed doing, but all seemed in order.

The house echoed with emptiness. Chores done, floors scrubbed, dishes washed and put away. Susanna had been busy today, so busy that she’d left nothing for Hannah to do. And with all her children active in their own families, Hannah knew she should have been glad for the peace and quiet. No grandchildren running through the house, no slamming doors, no tracking mud through the kitchen, no supper to cook.

Of course, she would need some sort of supper for herself. Maybe she’d start something that she, Susanna, Rebecca and Irwin could have again tomorrow. Hannah wanted to begin setting out early vegetable plants in the garden, and she wouldn’t have time to prepare a big noon meal. She went to the refrigerator, but when she opened it, there was a pot of chicken and dumplings as well as a bowl of coleslaw. A note was propped in front. “Enjoy! Rice pudding on bottom shelf. Love, Johanna.”

Hannah sighed. Why did Johanna’s thoughtful deed add to her sense of restlessness? Maybe she should walk over to Ruth’s and see if she needed help with the twins. Or, perhaps she should check on the chickens to see if Susanna had remembered to gather the eggs. Taking a basket from a peg on the wall, Hannah went back into the yard.

She was halfway to the chicken house when she heard the sound of a motor vehicle. As she watched, a familiar truck came up the lane and into the yard. Albert pulled to a stop, rolled down the window and smiled.

“Afternoon, Hannah.”

“Afternoon, Albert.” She walked over to his truck, egg basket on her arm.

“Wondered how the pony was, if you noticed any swelling in his legs or any bruising?”

She shook her head. “Ne. The pony is fine, thanks be.”

“And Susanna? She’s no worse for the tumble?” He tugged at his ball cap and leaned out the window.

“Ne, Susanna’s good.” She chuckled. “Actually, she’s not behaving like herself. She’s always been the easiest of my children, but recently...” She spread her hands. “I know you don’t have children, but...”

“No, I don’t, but I think I should have. Sometimes, Hannah, I wonder if...”

“Ya?”

He removed his cap and squeezed the brim between his hands, then put it back on his head and tugged it tight. “You sure you don’t want me to check that pony out?”

“The pony’s fine.” First Susanna and now Albert. This was turning into the strangest afternoon, Hannah mused. She liked the man, found his company interesting and felt at ease with him, but she couldn’t imagine why he was acting so oddly.

It seemed almost as if Albert wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was like a father to Grace’s husband. Was there some trouble with Grace’s new family that she didn’t know about? Hannah’s eyes narrowed. And why was Albert so worried about Susanna? Was there more about Susanna and David than what he’d told her?

“If you’ve something to tell me,” she said. “It’s best you just say it instead of beating around the bush.”

Albert’s earnest face flushed.

Bingo, she thought. But she didn’t urge him further. If there was one thing that she’d learned from being a teacher, it was that silence often brought more confessions than demands did.

“There is something I wanted to ask you.”

“Ya, Albert. What is it?”

He leaned out the window. “Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about...”

It was all she could do to keep from tapping her foot impatiently. “Yes, Albert?”

“Alpacas,” he said.

Chapter Four

Albert raised his gaze to meet Hannah’s. He could feel his face growing warm. Being around Hannah Yoder always did that to him. Made him tongue-tied, too.

It wasn’t just that Hannah was attractive. She was that and more. Maybe attractive didn’t do her justice. Hannah was strikingly handsome, with large brown eyes, a generous mouth and a shapely nose with just a smattering of freckles. Hers wasn’t a face a man was likely to forget, no matter his age.

Hannah’s creamy skin was as smooth as a baby’s, and her hair, what he could see of it, peeking out around her kapp, was thick and curly, a soft reddish-brown. She was tall, but not too tall, sturdy, but still graceful. He’d never seen her when she wasn’t neat and tidy.

It wasn’t just her looks that he liked. Hannah was the sort of woman you expected could take charge if she needed to. Something about her was calming, which didn’t make much sense, considering that she always put him off his stride when she was near him. But one thing was certain, she didn’t look or act old enough to have grandbabies.

Not that he thought of her as anything but a friend. Their relationship was solidly defined by the rules of what it meant to be Amish and Mennonite. And the fact that they could both acknowledge their friendship and be easy with one another was a tribute to Hannah’s respected status among both communities. And, he hoped, to his own.

“Albert?”

Hannah’s voice slid through his thoughts like warm maple syrup. She had a way of pronouncing his name that gave it a German lilt, but seemed perfectly natural. He blinked. “Yes, Hannah?”

“Did you say alpacas?” Her eyes twinkled, as though she’d heard something amusing but was too kind to laugh at him.

“Ya,” he said, falling into the Deitsch speech pattern that his family had often used when he was a youngster on the farm. “You’ve heard of alpacas, haven’t you?”

She chuckled. “I have. My friend in Wisconsin raises them. She cards the fleece after she shears it, spins it, and sells the fiber to English women who knit garments out of it. It’s much warmer than sheep’s wool, too warm for Delaware use. But it’s very soft and she gets a good price for it.”

“Well,” He hesitated, not wanting her to think that he hadn’t seriously considered what he was about to propose. “John thinks that I have too much time on my hands,” he said. “Since my father...” He took a breath and started again, wondering if coming to Hannah with this scheme had been a big mistake. “The practice keeps me pretty busy, and of course, I’m always welcome at Grace and John’s, but...”

She was just looking at him in that patient way of hers, and he finished in a rush. “John suggested, and I thought it was a good idea, for me to take up a hobby.”

She nodded. “I can see where that would make sense, Albert.”

Again, he noticed her unique way of saying his name. Hannah’s English was flawless, but some words came out with just a hint of German accent.

“And you’ve been thinking about raising alpacas? Is that what you’re saying?” She motioned toward the house. “I’ve got iced tea chilling in the refrigerator. It’s warm this afternoon, and I’m sure you must be thirsty. Would you like some?”

“I would,” he answered, getting out of the truck. “That’s kind of you. If it’s no trouble.”

“How much trouble could pouring a glass of tea be?” Hannah led the way toward a picnic table standing in the shade of a tree beside the house. “Have a seat, Albert.” He did, and she went into the house through the back door and returned with two glasses of iced tea.

He nodded his thanks, accepted the glass and took a sip of the tea. It was delicious, not too sweet. “Great. Is that mint I taste?”

Hannah’s eyes twinkled. “That’s Susanna’s doing. It does give the tea a refreshing bite, doesn’t it?” Hannah sat down across the table from him. He nodded, and then drew the conversation back to his reason for stopping by today. “So I was saying, about the alpacas. As it happens, an acquaintance of mine, another vet over in Talbot County—that’s in Maryland—”

Hannah chuckled. “I know where Talbot County is, Albert. Jonas and I bought cows from a farmer there regularly.”

“That’s right, I remember. Jonas told me that. Anyway, one of this vet’s clients, an older man, has a herd of alpacas. Mr. Gephart has had some health problems and he needs to find homes for most of his stock. He’s willing to sell me some of his hembras—that’s what they call the females—at an excellent price if I promise to keep them together. Mr. Gephart has become very fond of them, and he’s raised them from crias.”

“Crias are the babies,” Hannah said. “I remember my Wisconsin friend mentioning that. She said that they are really cute.”

He leaned forward, pleased that Hannah seemed interested in hearing about the alpacas. “One of the females has a cria. It’s a male, and he’s all black. The mother is a rose-gray color, and her name is Estrella. She’s gentle and her fleece is especially fine, but she had some problems when the baby was born. She won’t be able to have any more little ones, but she’s a dominant female, and she’d make an excellent leader for the herd. They live fifteen to twenty years, so she’d produce fleece for a long time. I’m thinking I won’t get a male of my own, at least to start with.”

“It sounds as if you’ve made up your mind to start your own herd,” she said.

“Pretty much, but here’s the thing.” He took another swallow of the tea. He’d rehearsed what he would say to Hannah, how he would present his proposal, but his thoughts were all a jumble in his head now. “You know I have that property on Briar Corner Road?” he started slowly. “I’ve got about seventy acres there. Anyway, that would be a good place for the alpacas if I had fencing and a decent barn, but the place is sort of isolated. There would be no one to keep an eye on them.”

“I see your point,” she agreed. “Alpacas are a big investment, and without someone living there, you couldn’t be sure that your animals would be safe.”

“They’re just like any other livestock. They’re best kept close. So, what I was wondering is...” He took another drink of tea. “You have this empty second barn and a lot of outbuildings, and you’ve got first-class fencing. I was hoping that you might consider boarding my alpacas. They wouldn’t need much room, five acres at most. And I wouldn’t expect you to do the feeding and care. I could come by morning and evening and—”

“Albert.” Hannah tilted her head and fixed him with her schoolteacher stare.

“I’m sure we could agree on a fair monthly price. I’d feel so much better about starting the venture if my animals were here.” Now that he was on a roll, he just kept going. “Your little stable would make a perfect—”

“Please, stop.” She raised a hand, palm up.

He broke off in midsentence, and his expression must have shown his disappointment because she hurried to go on.

“I’m not saying no. What I’m saying is...” She shrugged. “How many times have we had you or John here in the past year to help one of our animals?”

“Not counting the pony?” He paused to consider. “Six, seven times, maybe.”

“A lot more than that.” She smiled at him. “You’ve been more than fair with billing us, but still having the proper veterinary care for animals is a big part of our expense.” She settled back on the bench and folded her arms. “Why don’t we strike a bargain? I’ll provide housing and grazing for your alpacas, and you do my veterinary care free of charge for six months? Then we can decide if we want to continue with the arrangement as it is, or make changes.”

Relief surged through him. After thinking on the whole idea for a few days, he was really keen on it. It excited him in a way nothing had in a good long while. Mr. Gephart wanted to downsize his herd as soon as possible, and a delay might mean Albert would lose the opportunity. “You’ll do it? Without being paid? That hardly seems fair to you—”

She chuckled. “I think I’m in a better place to decide what’s fair to me. I like the idea of having animals in those empty stalls. And I have a lot of livestock that need vet care: the pigs, cows, horses. Not to mention the cats people keep dropping off here. Having them neutered or spayed is a drain on my pocketbook, but if I don’t have it done, I’d end up buried in hundreds of cats.”

He nodded. “I can see your point.” Straightening his shoulders, he took another drink of the tea. “I’m thinking of buying seven alpacas to start. Three of the hembras are pregnant, and the other females are nearly old enough to—” The word breed stuck in his throat and he felt his throat clench.

“It’s all right, Albert,” Hannah assured him with a sweet, mischievous smile. “I’m a farmer. I understand the process. Unless you’re raising the alpacas just as a hobby, you’ll want young ones to add to your herd and to sell to help cover expenses.”

“Exactly.” He drained the last of his tea. “Is it all right if I walk back and take a look at the stable, to see what I’d need to do to bring the animals home?”

“Of course. I’ll come with you.” Hannah rose and they walked side by side across the yard toward the second, smaller barn and the outbuildings. “There’s a small attached pound, a loafing shed and a seven-acre pasture with good grazing, beyond that. As you can see, this field is far back, away from the road.”

“It looks perfect.”

“I’m fortunate. My son-in-law Charley believes in good fences. I don’t know what I’d do without him doing the heavy work on the farm.”

“Miriam picked a good husband,” Albert agreed. Neither of them mentioned that his nephew, John, had seriously courted Hannah’s daughter Miriam, before she’d accepted Charley’s offer of marriage. John had been hurt and disappointed at losing Miriam, but that was before he’d met Grace. Now both couples were happily married, and Hannah had the satisfaction of knowing that her Miriam would remain securely in the Amish faith.

“There’s no reason for you to stop by every morning,” Hannah said as she unlatched the door to the stable. “Our windmill pumps fresh water into the stable and to the trough in the loafing shed. One of us can easily do the first feeding when we tend the other animals. I know that mornings are your busiest time of the day.”

“They are,” he agreed. “But I wouldn’t want to put you out. You’re doing me a big favor by letting me keep them here.”

“There’ll be no talk of favors,” she said, smiling so hard that a dimple appeared on her cheek. “We’re just old friends, helping each other out.”

Hannah showed him the empty small barn with the spacious box stalls, the feed storage area and the door that led into the pound or corral, as horse people liked to refer to it. The stable was as clean as he’d expected. Alpacas were herd animals so they wouldn’t really need individual stalls, but he was glad to see that there were two separate wooden enclosed areas where an injured animal or an expectant female could be cared for. A narrow staircase against one wall led to a half loft overhead.

She pushed open the wide back door. It was built in the old Dutch manner, split, so that the top half could be swung open with the bottom remaining fastened. “You can see what the fence is like from here,” she explained.

As he’d expected, Hannah’s wooden posts were solid, the stock wire was tight, and the open loafing shed dry and clean. He couldn’t have designed anything better for the alpacas if he’d had the time to build out at his farm. Hannah’s place was also closer and more convenient to get to. He was sure this would work out fine. “I’ll not be a bother to you,” he promised.

“I know you won’t. But I warn you, you may have to chase off my grandchildren. I think your alpacas are going to be a big hit with them.”

“The animals are gentle and sweet-natured,” he assured her. “I think that you’ll be a fan, too.”

As they were leaving the barn, Albert heard the rattle of buggy wheels on the driveway and saw a horse pulling a two-wheel cart coming up the driveway. An Amish woman was driving the open carriage.

Hannah raised her hand to shade her eyes from the late afternoon sun. “Why, that looks like Aunt Jezzy!” she exclaimed. “What a nice surprise.”

“I’ll be getting back to the office,” Albert said. He was a little disappointed. He’d been hoping to talk with Hannah a little longer. He had a lot of questions to ask, like if Hannah had straw for bedding to sell, or if she thought he’d be better off ordering woodchips for the stalls. “I don’t want to interfere with your company.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Hannah said. “Wait right here for a moment until I see if Aunt Jezzy has come on an errand or has time to visit. Don’t move an inch, Albert.” She hurried over to meet the older woman who’d, until not long ago, had been part of her household. Aunt Jezzy had recently married and lived not far from Byler’s Store. Today, she didn’t have her husband with her; she was alone in the cart.

Hannah greeted her aunt and the two exchanged hugs. They were talking, but they were too far away for Albert to make out what they were saying. Then Hannah turned back and motioned to him. “Aunt Jezzy’s come to spend the night with me,” she called. “And we’d love it if you’d stay and share supper with us. I’ve got chicken and dumplings.”

Albert’s first thought was to refuse. He glanced at his watch. They closed the clinic early on Fridays, and he hadn’t had any emergency calls. But surely Hannah was just being polite; she didn’t really want him to stay. He couldn’t remember anything particular in the refrigerator, but he could always stop and pick up a frozen pizza on the way back to his apartment. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s kind of you, but I—”

“Homemade coleslaw, some of Anna’s yeast rolls and rice pudding with raisins for dessert,” Hannah tempted. “Come on, Albert. I know you love chicken and dumplings.”

He did. Next to chicken and dumplings, another frozen pizza sounded about as good as a Frisbee with a little ketchup drizzled on it. “You’re sure I won’t be a bother?” He walked toward them. “I really should...”

“Accept our invitation,” Hannah urged. “I know Aunt Jezzy would love to hear about your alpacas.”

Albert considered the situation. Jezzy’s visit was his good luck. As accepting as the Amish were of him, they had their rules. One was that he couldn’t be in a house alone with a woman or a girl of any age. He hadn’t seen Susanna or Rebecca around, but having Hannah’s aunt present made it perfectly acceptable for him to join them for the evening meal.

“All right,” he said, giving in graciously. “I never could pass up a home-cooked meal that I didn’t cook.” He chuckled. “And I’d walk a mile in bare feet for homemade rice pudding.”

* * *

Hannah smiled as Albert finished off a second helping of chicken and dumplings. It was always good to have company, and having Aunt Jezzy come by when she did was a delight. It was nice to see a man eat heartily at her table. Hannah guessed that Albert made do for himself with fast food and sandwiches more than he should. At least that’s what Grace had shared when she was visiting a few days earlier.

John and I worry about Uncle Albert, Grace had said. Since John’s grandfather passed away, Uncle Albert’s all alone in that apartment over the office. He never was much of a cook, according to John, and we’re concerned for his health. Sometimes, John says he makes do with bologna-and-cheese sandwiches or just peanut butter and crackers for supper. And he starts work with coffee and a donut.

Albert’s a man who enjoys plain country cooking when it’s put in front of him, Hannah thought. She’d believed that Grace’s husband, John, had the biggest appetite she’d seen on a normal-size man, but now she knew where John had gotten it. Albert was so polite that he was almost shy. He had to be coaxed to take a decent portion, then seconds, but it was clear he savored every bite. Even Aunt Jezzy took pleasure in watching him enjoy his food.

Aunt Jezzy’s husband had gone to visit a dying cousin in Lancaster. She never liked being alone in a house, so she’d hitched up the buggy and come for an overnight visit. Naturally, since neither of them had a telephone in the house, there was no way Aunt Jezzy could let her know she was coming, but she’d been certain of her welcome here.

This afternoon Hannah had been feeling lonely and out of sorts. Then Albert had showed up with his plan for the alpacas, brightening her day. There was no way she could have invited Albert to share her evening meal without anyone else present. It simply wouldn’t have been proper. A good Amish woman did not entertain a man without a chaperone.

Then here was Aunt Jezzy, a gift from God, as it were, making it possible for Hannah to invite them both to share the food that her thoughtful daughter had left for her. It just went to prove that the Lord’s mercy was unending. She had been feeling sorry for herself, wallowing in self-pity because she had to eat alone, and He had wiped away her gloom in an instant with an unexpected gift of sunshine.

Hannah glanced across the table with a smile. She could see that Albert was enjoying himself as much as she was. With a little urging, he began to explain his plan for raising alpacas; her aunt was fascinated. Aunt Jezzy had always loved animals. Actually, Hannah couldn’t think of anything or anyone her aunt-by-marriage didn’t like.

Some people thought Jezzy was odd, and she did have some curious habits, such as spinning spoons and turning objects around three times before she could let them rest. But Albert never seemed to notice Aunt Jezzy’s endearing little quirks. The three of them weren’t halfway through supper when Albert had them laughing so hard with tales from his veterinary practice that she almost dropped her glass.

Not that Albert mentioned any names or repeated anything he shouldn’t, but surely it couldn’t be a sin to be amused by stories of a man who let his pet pig sleep in a bed in his house and tied a ribbon around its head.

“As I live and breathe,” Aunt Jezzy said, wiping her eyes with her napkin. “How could anybody be that silly?”

Chuckling, Hannah rose and went to the refrigerator for the rice pudding. “Are you sure you won’t have more coleslaw?” she asked Albert. “And there’s more chicken and dumplings in the pot.”

“Not another mouthful,” Albert protested. “I’ll never make it up the stairs to my apartment. I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed myself, being with you two, and sharing your supper. I really appreciate it.”

“Ne, ne, none of that,” Hannah said. “It was our pleasure.” The mantel clock chimed, and she glanced up. Was it truly that late? She glanced out the windows to see if she could catch sight of either of her daughters. Of course, it was Susanna she was most concerned about. Rebecca was so busy with wedding plans that she often stayed at one of her sisters’ houses until well after dark.

A small concern nagged at Hannah as she served up generous bowls of the rice pudding. “Would anyone like coffee?” She wondered if it would be an imposition to ask Albert to drive by Anna’s and tell Susanna to start for home, if her daughter didn’t get home before he left, that was.

But, there was no need. They’d barely started their pudding when the dogs outside began to bark, and Samuel’s buggy came into the yard.

Hannah went out onto the back porch. To her surprise, it wasn’t Samuel but her daughter Anna who, along with Susanna, was getting down from the buggy. Before Hannah reached the back gate, Susanna handed Anna’s little daughter, Rose, down to Anna.

“Mam!” Anna waved. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve come to spend the night. I just thought I’d use the excuse of driving Susanna home to take a little vacation.”

“Wonderful,” Hannah said, smiling back at her. She was always pleased to see Anna. Her daughter’s round, pink cheeks glowed with health, and she looked as jolly as ever. Of all her children, Anna and Susanna had always been the easiest to raise.

“Samuel can mind the children tonight,” Anna declared. “Baby Rose and I thought it might be fun to surprise you.”

“Ya.” Susanna giggled. “A surprise for you, Mam. I brought Anna and Rose. To sleep with us.”

“Wonderful,” Hannah said, taking the baby from Anna’s arms. “Aunt Jezzy is here to stay the night, too. We’ll have our own frolic.”

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