Hannah's Courtship

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.