Hannah stood next to her mother at the kitchen window. Mary had rushed to the barn when she saw Isaac pulling up in his buggy, and now they were smiling and laughing.
“Isaac must really like Cousin Mary. She told me that they are going on a date tomorrow.” Mamm kept her eyes glued to the two of them, which was probably a good thing because she didn’t see Hannah scowling. “I think it’s wonderful that Isaac is starting to date again. He’s spent so much time tending to his parents; he deserves someone special in his life.”
“Mamm . . .” Hannah folded her arms across her chest and struggled to keep the agitation from her voice. “First of all, Mary won’t be here very long. And did you know that Mary was the one who asked Isaac out?”
Her mother didn’t pull her gaze away, but smiled. “I think that’s just fine.”
Hannah shook her head. “I don’t know how you can say that. It’s not appropriate.” She moved away from the window, poured a cup of kaffi, and sat down at the kitchen table to read die Botschaft. She took a sip as she caught up on posts from relatives in Indiana. Anything to take her mind off of Mary and Isaac. After a few moments, her mother joined her.
“How are you and Mary getting along?” Hannah’s mother pulled out the chair across the table from Hannah, but instead of coffee, her mother was sipping on goat milk, not a beverage Hannah enjoyed by itself.
Hannah marked her spot with her finger and shrugged. “We get along fine.” She recalled Mary’s comment about heaven. “She’s different. And I still don’t think a woman should ask a man out on a date. I know the Englisch do that sometimes, but that doesn’t make it right.”
“Hannah. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”
Hannah dropped her jaw. “Mamm! That is not true. I am still grieving for Ethan. And besides, jealousy is a sin.”
“And we all sin from time to time,” her mother said as she put a hand on Hannah’s. “I know how much you loved Ethan, but it’s been a year, Hannah. If you have an interest in Isaac, you need to talk to Mary about it since she is only here visiting.”
Hannah started shaking her head as tears filled her eyes. Even all this time later, she felt guilty for considering the feelings she might have for Isaac.
Her mother leaned against the back of the chair and took a long sip of milk. “Ethan would want you to be happy. He would not begrudge you going out with Isaac. We all know that Isaac is a wonderful man.”
Hannah blinked her eyes a few times as guilt and sadness turned to anger, which was possibly brought on by jealousy, making her mother right. But Hannah was not about to admit it. “No matter the situation, Isaac and Mary are going out tomorrow, and I think we owe it to both of them to see if they might have a chance together.” She heard the words leap through her lips and knew it was the truth, but they left a bad taste in her mouth.
“The Lord might have put Mary in your life for a reason, Hannah. You’ve withdrawn so much since Ethan’s death, and I think sometimes people avoid you because they don’t know what to say.”
Hannah knew this to be true. Even her closest friends kept their distance these days. “Maybe.”
“I would like Mary to stay longer. I mentioned it to her in passing, but the subject hasn’t come up again. She’s already been here a week. It seems like she just got here yesterday. You know, her great-aunt and uncle aren’t living anymore. And she doesn’t have anyone courting her.” Mamm took a sip of the thick milk, and it left a white mustache. Hannah smiled and pointed to her own upper lip. Mamm chuckled as she dabbed at the spot. “How would you feel about that?”
“I’m sure she has people in Texas to return to, but it’s up to her.” Sometimes Hannah could feel a friendship forming, and maybe with more time, she’d grow even closer to Mary. Or would her cousin only grow close to Isaac?
Mamm sat taller, put her palms on the table, and smiled. “I will talk to her later.” She nodded toward the window. “Maybe more than a friendship can grow and she’ll end up staying here.”
Hannah scowled. “Mamm, they’re just talking.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow. “You just never know who the heart will choose. Who God will choose.” Mamm stood up and pressed her hands together in prayer, closed her eyes, and looked toward the ceiling. “I’m going to pray that both of them will find true love if it’s God’s will.”
Hannah forced a smile, then walked to the window. Mary and Isaac were still talking. Maybe they would choose each other.
Hannah wrapped her hand around the back of her neck. Who will ever choose me?
Isaac chuckled at another one of Mary’s stories. She’d surely experienced things that Isaac couldn’t imagine, but it made him want to travel to Texas someday—to see longhorns, bluebonnets, and maybe even a cowboy. And he’d sure like to try one of the kolaches Mary spoke of, fluffy pastries with sweet fillings like poppy seed, prune, and apricot.
“And your mamm never found the baby armadillos?” he asked when Mary was done with her tale.
“Nope. My friend and I raised the four babies in an old doghouse in the backyard. They looked like pink little rats, but what could we do? They didn’t have a mother.” Mary looked away as she blinked her eyes a few times. The friend was Ethan, but she didn’t think she should mention that she had a brother since none of Hannah’s family thought she had any siblings. “That was a long time ago.”
Isaac studied her for a few moments. She was pretty with golden-blond hair framing a tanned face peeking from beneath her bonnet, and she had deep-brown eyes. But when he glanced toward the house, he found himself wishing Hannah would come outside. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d read Hannah’s expression wrong at the furniture store when she’d avoided making eye contact with him. She’d fidgeted with the string on her kapp, as if maybe she was bothered that Isaac would be going on a picnic with her cousin.
He wondered what kind of community Mary came from, where it was okay for a woman to ask out a man.
“Um . . . since you already visited our furniture store, are you . . . are we . . .”
“I would still love to go on a picnic.” She took a step toward him as she spoke, smiling. Isaac glanced at the King farmhouse again, but all was quiet.
“Gut. Okay.”
Isaac wanted to straighten Mary’s prayer covering. It was always lopsided. But he didn’t want to embarrass her.
She raised both eyebrows and smiled until tiny dimples formed on her cheeks.
“And remember, I said I’ll bring the food.”
They settled on a time, and Isaac went on his way, back to the store. It had been so long since Isaac had been out with a woman, he couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. Even if he did wish that it was Hannah he’d be spending the day with.
Charlotte helped Hannah set the table for lunch—dinner, she reminded herself—while Lena finished running the clothes through the wringer washing machine.
“Mamm said she mentioned you staying a bit longer with us.” Hannah made the statement in a way that Charlotte couldn’t decipher. She wasn’t sure if Hannah wanted her to stay. Would Lena or Hannah want to stay in touch when Charlotte went back to Texas? She hoped not. With each passing day, she felt worse about the lies, and to keep in touch would just be continuing the deceit.
“Oh. I don’t want to inconvenience y’all.” She cringed, wishing she’d remember to sound more Amish.
“It wouldn’t be an inconvenience,” Hannah said as she placed a fruit salad on the table. “Mamm enjoys having you here.”
Charlotte pondered the comment.
The screen door in the living room slammed. Amos and Jacob were home for lunch. The familiar smell of sweat, manure, and hay wafted into the kitchen with the men, although it was a fraction of the odor they’d bring in at the end of the day. Despite their straw hats, both father and son sported a bronze tan, although Amos’s face had a web of wrinkles from years of outdoor work.
Jacob didn’t strike Charlotte as the poster child for the Amish. Not only had she caught him sneaking out of the house a couple of times, his hair was longer than most, and he rattled on about politics, space, movies, and places he wanted to go—most notably to the moon or Mars. And such conversations always drew criticism from Lena.
After they’d all prayed, Jacob said, “I bought a telescope with the money I’ve saved working side jobs.” The sixteen-year-old sat taller and raised his chin, seeming to know that at least one of his parents would challenge him. Amos spoke up first.
“What is this telescope? A phone?” Amos bit into a slice of bread, and Charlotte hurried to nab her own piece.
“It’s an instrument to look into space,” Jacob answered with a mouthful of chicken.
Charlotte was aware that Amish kids were allowed some liberties when they turned sixteen. Supposedly, it was a time for them to experience the outside world, then decide if they wanted to be baptized into the Amish faith. Although, she couldn’t imagine why anyone would stay here when there was an entire world, away from buggies and primitive living, to experience.
“Nee, that is a luxury,” Lena said firmly. “What do you think the bishop would say?”
Charlotte had seen the bishop at their church services, but the way everyone talked about this guy, he was judge, jury, and executioner, so to speak.
“There is nothing wrong with me wanting to educate myself about the world we live in,” Jacob said defiantly enough to draw a scowl from his father. Go Jacob, Charlotte thought.
“You have all the schooling you need,” Lena said, huffing out the words. “I hope you didn’t spend much on this space seeker.”
Charlotte fought a smile and stuffed more bread in her mouth.
“It’s my money to spend.” Jacob spat the words out like any normal teenager.
“You return it. We don’t need such worldly things here.” Lena sat taller and sighed loudly.
“Nee, I’m not. It’s coming on the package truck. And I’m keeping it.”
Amos laid his fork noisily on his plate, which was still half-full of chicken, potatoes, and green beans. “You will watch your voice with your mamm.” After directing the comment to Jacob, Amos turned to Lena. “He can keep the space seeker. He saved his money, and it won’t hurt anything.”
“Nee, Amos. What if the bishop sees it? What use is it? Why should he dabble with such things, and—”
“Stop, Lena.” Amos’s voice was firm as he spoke to his wife, and Charlotte held her breath for a few moments while she waited for Lena to counter. But Lena was quiet.
Huh . . . she’d learned something new about the Amish folks today. The man of the house runs the show.
Hannah sat up in bed, lit her lantern, then opened the drawer of her nightstand. She pulled out the cedar box with a few keepsakes from Ethan, things she hadn’t buried. Even though pictures weren’t allowed, she and Ethan had taken one of themselves a few weeks before he died. Their day at the Allentown Fair was one of Hannah’s fondest memories, and from high up on the Ferris wheel, Ethan had held out his phone and snapped a picture of them. A flash of light lit up their faces against the darkness of night behind them. If only she could have known that only a short time later, her Ethan would be gone.
Why, Ethan? Why? She’d asked herself hundreds of times. They’d had their entire future to look forward to, and Hannah had been certain God had blessed her beyond her greatest hopes. She took out the two dried roses, the first ones Ethan had given her, ones he had grown himself. She thumbed through other keepsakes, expecting the familiar tears to build, but lately, her grief had taken a new turn. Anger. How do you love someone, commit to a lifetime with them, then leave without saying good-bye, not even a note? Nothing. Just word from a neighbor that Ethan was dead, that he had hanged himself. And now Hannah had to live with that image in her mind. Although, she was sure it wasn’t as bad as the vision that Big Johnny Stoltzfus would have to carry around, since he was the one who found Ethan. She missed Ethan, but he hadn’t only ended his own life, he’d taken a part of Hannah’s too.
She was putting everything back in the small box when she heard a voice, and since sleep wasn’t coming this evening, she picked up the lantern and eased her bedroom door open. She could see a light coming from beneath the door in Mary’s room. Tiptoeing, she made her way down the hallway and knocked lightly.
“Mary, are you awake?”
“Yeah, just a minute.”
“No, no, no,” Charlotte whispered as she looked at her watch. She’d just finished applying the hair color she’d brought from home. Since she might be here at least another three weeks, she decided to fix her hair tonight while everyone slept. Someone was bound to notice her roots any day now—they were so obvious to her.
She was thankful for the prayer covering. She always had her hair done at a salon, so she had no idea how to match just the roots, which is why she’d applied the dye over all her hair. Hopefully, this would be a shade of blond she could live with and that no one would notice a difference. Twice, Hannah had almost caught Charlotte without any head covering. She was sure Amish women didn’t color their hair. She’d seen plenty of the women with full heads of gray hair, many who didn’t even look like they’d reached forty yet.
Hannah often wore just a scarf over her head at home, and sometimes nothing at all when she was inside the house. Same with Lena. When both of the women had asked why Charlotte never took her prayer cap off, she said she wasn’t comfortable doing so around Hannah’s father and brother. She had no idea what the rule was, but it was all she could come up with at the time.
Ugh. Dye was going to get all over the towel, but as she wound it around her head, she decided to worry about that later.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asked as she pushed the door open a few inches, shining her flashlight toward the ceiling.
“I’m sorry. I thought you took a bath earlier.” Hannah held the lantern up a little higher and stared at Charlotte through the opening.
“I did. I’m just . . . well, just . . . soaking my hair.”
Hannah cocked her head. “Soaking your hair?”
Charlotte opened the door a little wider and forced a toothy smile that she hoped might look genuine. “Oh, it’s just something to make my hair shiny.” She knew vanity was looked down upon, and once again, she was kicking herself for not choosing her words more carefully. “Not really shiny, just manageable. It tangles easily.”
Hannah crinkled her nose as she waved a hand in front of her face. “Ach, it doesn’t smell very gut, does it?”
“No. It’s pretty stinky.” Charlotte cleared her throat, wondering why she hadn’t thought this through.
“I can’t sleep and wondered if maybe we could talk.”
Charlotte was just about to concoct another lie, excuse, something—when Hannah added, “I want to talk about Ethan. Something is bothering me.”
“Okay.” She eased the door open, glad Hannah was ready to discuss Ethan, but nervous too. She took three quick steps backward when Hannah came closer with the lantern.
“Ach, I’m sorry. I can snuff it out.”
“No. It’s okay.” She sat on the side of the bed closest to the window, and Hannah put the lantern on the dresser across the room before she took a seat on the other side of the bed.
Charlotte waited, her head tingling from the dye. She turned the flashlight off and placed it on the bed. From where it was on the dresser, the lantern cast only shadows on the two of them. But that was okay. Charlotte didn’t need the open flame any closer.
“Do you need to go do something with your hair?” Hannah pushed her thick, dark hair over her shoulder.
“No. Nee. It’s fine. It has to set.” She scratched her forehead. “For management. I mean, to be manageable.” Good grief. This is so exhausting. “Anyway, you said you wanted to talk about Ethan?” She folded her legs underneath her and hoped she was ready for whatever Hannah was about to share.
“Ya. My feelings about Ethan have started to change lately. For some reason, I’m feeling angry at him. I’ve prayed for God to keep this anger away from my heart, but at times, I’m more mad than hurt. And I’m just not sure how to feel about that.”
Charlotte’s bottom lip trembled. Hopefully, Hannah couldn’t see it in the darkness. “Why are you angry?” She heard the way she spat the words. Hannah may still be grieving Ethan’s death, but Charlotte hadn’t cleared Hannah of somehow being involved, even if only emotionally.
Hannah lowered her head. “Ya, I know. I am ashamed for feeling this way. But Ethan left me. He left me alone here, loving him and unable to be with him. Why would a person do that to someone they loved?”
Charlotte was trembling all over now as she recalled Ethan’s last letter to her, still wondering if Hannah had broken Ethan’s heart. She shined the flashlight directly in Hannah’s face. “What happened, Hannah? Why do you think your fiancé killed himself?” Charlotte held her breath as her heart pounded. This was it, the purpose of her trip, if Hannah trusted her enough to be honest.
Hannah hung her head, shaking it back and forth as she sniffled. “He ended things with me. I have no idea why. He told me he wasn’t worthy of my love, called off our wedding, and he was dead two days later.”
Charlotte waited for Hannah’s words to register, then forced herself to breathe. “What?”
“It just didn’t make any sense.” Hannah stood up and paced in the shadows between the glow from the lantern and Charlotte’s flashlight. “When I tried to question him about it, he just left me standing in the middle of his living room and ran out the door. It was the last time I saw him.”
As much as Charlotte hadn’t wanted to visit Ethan’s house, that might be the only place she would get some answers because obviously Hannah was as confused as Charlotte. “I’m so sorry, Hannah.” Her stomach clenched as she thought about the way she’d been feeling lately. “You have a right to be angry. It’s an awful feeling not to understand why someone you love would do this.”
Hannah stood up, pulled a tissue from the pocket of her white robe, and dabbed at her eyes. “I feel like I can’t move forward, like I’m stuck until I know what caused Ethan to do this.” She picked up the lantern and held it up. “It’s been a year. When will it stop hurting?”
Charlotte hoped she wouldn’t burst into tears. Hannah wasn’t her enemy, she was her ally. She shook her head and whispered into the dimly lit room. “I don’t know.”
Charlotte had an overwhelming urge to make a full confession. But tomorrow was lunch with Isaac, and maybe he had more information. Although, wouldn’t he have already shared anything he knew with Hannah? This wasn’t the time to add more grief on Hannah, so Charlotte opted to stay in the role she’d chosen, at least for now.
Hannah excused herself and made a hasty exit. Charlotte glanced at her cell phone to check the time—noticing she only had two bars left—then she sat on the bed to wait ten more minutes until her hair would be done. She’d been so wrong about the woman her brother had intended to marry, and she was more confused now than ever.
Finally, it was time to wash out the color. She eased her bedroom door open and tiptoed down the hall. As she fumbled in near darkness, she set the sink faucet to warm and did her best to rinse her hair by the light of her flashlight, trying desperately to sort things out in her mind.
But as she rewrapped her head in a clean towel, she couldn’t help but wonder if she would find the answer at Ethan’s house.