“It might hurt less if they did.” Her heart squeezed at the thought of the reception that awaited her. There would be no slow smile from Luca. And her friends might not talk to her. She missed Sarah. Hannah took a last sip of her iced vanilla coffee.
“Which way?” Angie asked.
“Let me check my GPS. Turn left here.”
Hannah gazed out the window. “This looks familiar.” The woods crowded along the road, the sun disappearing ten feet into the thick trees. She rolled down her window and breathed in the scent of forest and river. The fields had been freshly plowed, and soon corn would grow so close to the road it would be like traveling through a green cornstalk tunnel. But she’d be long gone by then. The thought hurt.
“So what is this shunning thing? You’re still family. How can they turn their backs on you?”
The world never understood. Even though Hannah was about to put herself on the receiving end of a very painful circumstance, she didn’t begrudge her people the right. “They want to make sure the corruption doesn’t spread. If I hadn’t joined the church, there would be no Meidung, but I knelt before the entire congregation and promised to be faithful to our way. I broke that oath when I ran off with Reece. And they love me. They don’t want me to continue on the wrong path.”
“Have you been in touch with anyone since you left?”
“Just my aunt. I tried to call my cousin at work the other day, but he wasn’t in.”
“Why didn’t your aunt follow the ban? She still corresponds with you.”
“She’s a bit of a rebel.” Hannah laughed remembering her aunt’s small rebellions: curtains at the windows, a landscape picture or two in her bedroom, sending her son, Moe, to the public school. For some reason the bishop had always allowed her the small indiscretions. Mamm said he’d been sweet on Aunt Nora once upon a time.
The car crested a hill, and in the valley ahead of them lay the old homestead. Hannah caught her breath, and her lungs constricted. The ten years hadn’t changed it. Luca had given the house a fresh coat of paint recently, and the white siding gleamed in the spring sunshine. The redbud trees along the pond bloomed with purple flowers. Mamm’s bed of jonquils had spread out to take over more of the side yard. Hannah could almost see her mother on the other side of the screen door, her white prayer cap bobbing and weaving as she kneaded bread.
Laundry flapped in the breeze from a line stretched by pulley from the house to the top of the barn. Two buggies were parked under a big walnut tree. She could imagine it was yesterday she was here last instead of ten years ago.
“Who inherited the property?”
“My cousin Luca and I. I’m not sure what he did about that. Likely just took over the farm and greenhouse and is waiting for me to show up someday.” Hannah knew Luca would never take it to the law to try to gain anything.
“Do you think he’ll turn you away?”
“I don’t think so. He and his wife won’t be able to dine with me, though. I’ll have to eat alone.”
“If you haven’t been in touch with him, how do you know he’s married?”
Hannah drank in more of the sights before answering. The garden had been turned over and planted, but nothing grew yet. The greenhouse billowed with colorful flowers and leafy plants. She could smell the aroma of phlox from here. Horses grazed in the pasture, and she strained to see if Lucy was still there. Her soul leaped when she saw the appaloosa’s familiar spots.
She dragged her gaze from the familiar sights. “The small clothes on the line. The Amish cherish children and welcome any that God sends them. We don’t use birth control. If he’s married, he has children.” Hannah held the picture of the redheaded girl in her hand, and she studied it again. She longed to find the answer to this riddle today.
Hannah had no idea whom Luca had married. He’d once had his eye on her best friend, Sarah. The thought of facing Sarah as well as Luca made a sheen of perspiration break out on her forehead. She opened her mouth to tell Angie to drive on past, but it was too late. Angie was already pulling into the driveway behind one of the open black buggies.
“I thought buggies were enclosed,” Angie said. “The ones I’ve seen in northern Indiana even have lights on them.”
“My ancestors are Swiss Amish,” Hannah said, her gaze riveted on the screen door that offered a glimpse of movement. “Too much comfort is bad for the soul.” She leaned out the window. “They refused to use lights or warning signs until the state made them. They believe if they have an accident, it’s God’s will. It’s all part of gelassenheit. Calmness in the storm of whatever God brings.”
“There are the kids,” Angie said, gesturing toward a trampoline in the backyard.
Two towheaded children bounced on it, both girls, the strings on their bonnets flying in the breeze and their dark blue dresses fluttering around their calves. Hannah guessed their ages to be about five and six. The screen door opened, and a young woman stepped out onto the side porch. Hannah would have recognized those blue eyes and pink cheeks anywhere. Sarah could have been a poster child for a healthy farm girl raised on fresh dairy and vegetables.
She squinted at the car, then her gaze locked with Hannah’s. Her mouth dropped open, then closed. Those perfect pink cheeks paled. Her hand left the screen door, and she took the first step down.
“Hannah?” she said in a faltering voice. “It’s you, isn’t it?” She moved quickly down the remaining two steps into the yard.
Hannah put aside her quilt block, then thrust open the car door and got out. For the first time in years, she felt naked without her prayer bonnet. And the sleeves on her blouse were too short. Why hadn’t she taken more care with her clothing this morning? Her attention had been on the child’s picture, and she hadn’t thought about what her family would say. At least she wore a broomstick skirt that came down to the bottom of her calves.
“Hello, Sarah,” Hannah said. She made an awkward move to embrace her friend, but Sarah stepped back with an alarmed expression and a quick glance at her children.
“You are all right?” Sarah asked, her gaze going past Hannah to the car. “Where is your husband?”
How did she explain it? Sarah would never understand. “We’re separated,” was all Hannah could manage.
Sarah’s already-wide eyes did a slow blink, and her mouth twisted into a frown. Angie got out of the other side of the car, and Sarah glanced at her. A formal smile froze on her face.
She wouldn’t be rude to a guest, Hannah knew. It might have been smarter than she realized to bring Angie. “Sarah, this is my, ah, good friend Angie Wang.” She’d nearly introduced Angie as her publicist. That wouldn’t have gone over well.
“Hello,” Sarah said in a forced tone. “Could I, um, get you some tea or coffee?”
The Amish prized hospitality. Since Angie wasn’t under the Meidung, she was welcomed, though Hannah was a pariah. The thought hurt.
“No, thank you. We stopped for coffee on the way,” Angie said. “Your kids are cute.”
Sarah’s distracted glance went to where the children still bounced on the trampoline. “Naomi and Sharon.” She looked back at Hannah. “Why are you here after all this time?”
Sarah wasn’t going to make it easy. Hannah would give anything for things to be the way they were ten years ago, before everything changed. “Is Luca home?”
“No, he’s on a trip to Indianapolis to sell some plants. He won’t be back until next Monday night.” Sarah bit her lip and looked as though she was about to cry. “You should go, Hannah, before the bishop knows you’re here.”
“I need some answers first,” Hannah said. She might as well make this quick. There was no welcome for her here. She reached into the car and grabbed the picture of the little girl off the seat. “I wonder if you know this little girl. Maybe you’ve seen her around the area? The picture was taken just down the road.”