Hannah's Courtship

“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.”