Her Brother's Keeper (13 page)

Charlotte bit her lip and held her breath until she couldn't stand it any longer. She shook loose of Hannah's hold and bent over, bursting with laughter. After she'd laughed until she had tears in her eyes, she stood up and faced off with the woman she'd been so wrong about. At first, two deep lines of worry appeared between Hannah's eyes and she shook her head. But after a few moments, she started laughing too.

“It's not funny,” Charlotte said as she turned to the mirror again, but within seconds, her stomach started to hurt from holding in her giggles. When she finally composed herself, she could see in the mirror that Lena, Amos, and Jacob were all standing behind them, mouths gaping. Lena slowly eased around Hannah to Charlotte, raising her lantern higher.

“Mary, it wonders me what has happened to your hair, but I'm sure that something can be done.” Lena's soft, consoling voice only caused Charlotte to laugh harder, which seemed contagious to Hannah. “I don't think the bishop would object to you going to one of those
Englisch
places that does hair,” Lena added.

After another moment, Charlotte and Hannah finally pulled themselves together and convinced the others it was okay to leave. Once they were alone, Charlotte looked at Hannah for a long moment, and again, she wondered what it would have been like to have Hannah as a sister-in-law, to be a part of this family, had Ethan allowed it.

Without giving it much thought, she pulled Hannah into a hug. “I'm glad I'm here.” It felt good to be truthful. She slowly eased away and grinned. “Even if I do have green hair.”

“I'm glad you're here too.” Hannah chuckled. “Even if you do have green hair.”

Charlotte felt like she was about to start crying again. And not tears of laughter. It had been a long time since Charlotte had made a genuine friend, and it saddened her that her growing friendship with Hannah was built on nothing but lies.

Isaac tucked in his shirt, pulled his suspenders over his shoulders as he made his way downstairs, and he was
almost out the door when he heard commotion from his parents' bedroom. Sighing, he glanced at the clock on the mantel, not wanting to be late for his picnic with Mary. He strained to hear what his mother was saying, but the volume of his father's voice bellowed above hers.

“Get out of here, woman. I don't need your help, and . . . I don't need
you
!”

Isaac couldn't ever recall hearing his parents fight prior to his father's cancer. Isaac had always respected his father as a faithful man who was a good provider for his family. He had a kind soul and gentle spirit. Until recently.

His mother burst out of the room crying, then halted when she saw Isaac. She grimaced after stubbing her toe on an uneven slat on the wooden floor. “I'm sorry you overheard that.” She leaned down to have a better look at her toe, but quickly rose and then straightened her back. “I'm still trying to make your father do more for himself, but it wonders me why he is so resistant. I shouldn't have coddled him for so long; I should have forced him to do more on his own. And now . . . it's just hard to change things.”

Isaac wanted to encourage his mother to stay strong and keep doing what she was doing, but he hated hearing his parents fight, and it was difficult to see his mother crying so much. “I know. I wish he tried harder too.” Even more bothersome for Isaac was the change in his father's personality. The meanness that had crept in. The darker his father's behavior, the more Isaac thought about Ethan and the depression he'd seemed to be battling.

His mother sniffled, blew her nose, then gave her head a quick shake as if to clear any unpleasant thoughts. “Never you mind. You go on your picnic with Mary. We will be just fine.”

Isaac took a few steps toward his mother. “Are you sure? I can cancel and go another time.”

“Nee, nee.”
She waved a hand toward the door. “You go. Everything will be fine.”

Isaac hesitated, but he thought about how many times he had canceled plans with friends to take care of his parents, especially his father. But this time, he nodded and left.

On the way to pick up Mary, he thought about the distance growing between his parents. It made him uncomfortable, but also sad for them. He hated to see his mother so exhausted from tending to his father, but Isaac was growing more and more upset about the way his father was treating his mother.

Mary was on the porch when he pulled up in his topless spring buggy. The elders referred to it as a courting buggy, although it had been awhile since Isaac had used it for that purpose. He was prepared to get out and go to the door to get Mary, but he hadn't even come to a complete stop before she came skipping down the porch steps carting a picnic basket. She stowed it in the back and jumped into the buggy before Isaac had a chance to help her.

“I hope you like tuna salad. I made it myself. But not with eggs. I don't like hard-boiled eggs. But I eat
them sometimes.” She drew in a breath. “I also brought potato salad, also without the hard-boiled eggs. And pie. Coconut pie. Oh, and . . .” She took in a long breath. “That's probably too many salads. But there's bread. And chowchow, and . . .”

It was obvious she was nervous, but Isaac couldn't get past the new color of her hair. When she finally stopped talking, all he could manage was, “Your hair . . . is . . . dark now.”

She brought both hands to either side of her head. “Yes. Uh,
ya
. My hair. It's a long story.”

Isaac wanted to hear the story, but Mary blushed, bit her bottom lip, and cringed, so he let it go, clicked his tongue, and backed up the buggy. He wanted to reach over and straighten her
kapp
, but he didn't.

What is wrong with me?
This wasn't even a real date, and yet Charlotte had never rambled on in such a way. She recalled a friend telling her that she had to have frequent dates so she wouldn't get out of practice. She hadn't bought into that theory—until now. But she couldn't help but smile as she thought about her circumstances. If anyone had told her that she would be going on a picnic with an Amish man, she would have never believed it. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself why she was spending time with Isaac and that whether or not he
took a romantic interest in her didn't matter. Probably best if he didn't.

“I brought iced tea too,” she finally said as Isaac clicked his tongue again, pushing the horse into a steady trot. At the main road, they took a right. “I've never been this way. Hannah always goes to the left, toward town.”

“She, uh . . . probably doesn't go this way on purpose.” Isaac spoke softly, so much so that Charlotte could barely hear him with the wind in her face and the horse hooves clopping against the asphalt.

“Why not?” Charlotte kept her eyes on the handsome man beside her.

He nodded to his left. “That's where Ethan lived.”

Charlotte couldn't breathe all of a sudden, as if someone had their hands around her throat, and she found herself gasp for a breath of air as she stared at the blue frame house with an overgrown lawn. She fought to control the quiver in her bottom lip. “Oh,” was all she managed before her mind drifted to Ethan. She forced her thoughts into order and slowly said, “Do you know why—why he took his life?” Charlotte knew now that Hannah didn't have anything to do with it, but she still wanted someone to be accountable.

“It's hard to understand why a man would do such a thing.” Isaac glanced at Charlotte, frowning. “But Hannah loved him very much. And he hurt her.” He shook his head. “A cowardly thing to do.”

Charlotte fought the urge to defend her brother. “Where are we going?”

“There's a park about a mile down the road.” He turned to her and smiled this time. “
Englisch
mothers are sometimes there with their
kinner
, but it's pretty and shaded.”

Goodness me.
The man did have a smile that could melt a girl's heart. Someday, there would be a lucky Amish woman who would snag this guy, but Charlotte just planned to enjoy the view. It didn't sound like he would be able to offer up any new information about Ethan, but she'd try again later.

“That sounds good—
gut
. I like to watch children playing. Laughing children make a person feel good—
gut
.”

Isaac nodded and turned into the park. Sure enough, there were several women with their children over by the slide and jungle gym. Isaac steered the horse and buggy to the far side of the park where there was a picnic table. “This okay?”

Charlotte nodded as her stomach rumbled. In the distance, a mother squatted at the end of the slide, waiting for her son to slide into her arms. The scene was postcard material, and as Charlotte looked on, she thought about her own family. What if she and Ethan had been raised by loving parents in a normal household? Would things have turned out differently for Ethan? For her?

Hannah was hanging the last towel on the line when she heard a buggy coming down the road. She picked up the empty basket and raised her hand to her forehead, squinting to block the sun.

Edna Glick.
Another one of Hannah's friends who hadn't come around much since Ethan's death. In truth, Hannah had withdrawn into her own little world, so she couldn't fault others for not wanting to be around her. She was thankful for Mary. Her cousin seemed to have an understanding about Ethan's death, and even though she hadn't said so, Hannah suspected Mary must have lost someone very close to her also.

“Wie bischt,”
Edna said as she crossed the yard toting a wicker basket. Edna was known for her glazed apple cookies. Hannah couldn't remember the last time she'd had one.

“I'm sorry I haven't been by in a while.” Edna stopped in front of her and smiled. “I've been spending a lot of time with John.”

Hannah had heard rumor that Edna and John Dienner were going to get married, though they hadn't published it for the community to know yet. Edna was twenty-three, and most folks were surprised it had taken this long for them to get engaged. They'd been dating for a long time.

“It's fine,” Hannah finally said as she eyed the basket, hoping for the apple cookies.

“These are for you.” She held the basket out for Hannah. “It's a new recipe that I found in
Mammi
's old recipe box. Cinnamon sticks. Very tasty.” Edna smiled, and with her tiny dimples and small stature, she looked much younger than she was.

Hannah took the basket. “
Danki
, Edna. This is so nice of you. Jacob likes anything with cinnamon, and I know we will all enjoy these.” Hannah tried to recall the last time she'd baked anything as a gift. Maybe next time she carted Widow Hostetler to town, she'd bake something for her. Then she remembered the potholder she'd finished knitting for Mary, but forgotten to give to her. “Do you want to come in for iced tea?”

“Nee
. I must be on my way, but I wanted to bring you these, and I also wondered if you would be at Sisters' Day next week.” She paused, looked down, then locked eyes with Hannah after a few moments. “Everyone really misses you.”