Her Brother's Keeper (23 page)

“Ya
, of course. Do you need anything?”

“Nee
, dear. But
danki
. I just need to rest and get over this bug.”

Hannah waited until she heard her mother's bedroom door shut, then wide-eyed, she looked at Mary. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

Her cousin nodded. “Yep. Pregnant.” Then she got up and slathered butter on yet another piece of bread. Hannah noticed that despite her bandages, Mary was doing better with the use of her hands, not so stiff.
Mamm
's miracle concoction.

“Well, you're the one eating like you are pregnant,” Hannah said before she giggled.

Mary smiled with a mouthful. “Well, I assure you, I'm not. But it sure seems like your mom is.”

Hannah sat down across from Mary. “Can that happen? I mean, at her age?”

“How old is she?”

Hannah tipped her head back, squeezed one eye shut, and counted by fives on her fingers. “Forty-seven. That's kind of old to be getting pregnant.”

“But very possible,” Mary added.

“I wonder if she's having her, you know, monthlies anymore.”

“Ask her,” Mary said.

“Ach
, I don't know if I should.” Hannah grinned. “Exactly how much bread do you plan to eat?”

Mary laughed, and when she did, she spit bread out of her mouth, some of the moist pieces sticking to Hannah's black apron. Hannah looked down at herself as her jaw dropped. “You spit on me.”

Mary then quickly slammed a hand to her mouth as her eyes grew rounder beneath raised eyebrows. “Oops.”

Hannah laughed out loud. It was something she
hadn't done much of before Mary arrived. She was really going to miss her cousin when she went back to Texas. But she instantly got quiet when she heard something. “Listen,” she said.

They both didn't move for a few seconds.

“Aw, it sounds like she's throwing up.” Mary stood up. “Maybe one of us should go check on her. Why don't you get the stuff out to make bread, and I'll go see if your mom needs anything.”

Hannah nodded. “Okay.”

Charlotte gently knocked on Lena's bedroom door, but when no one answered, she eased the door open.

She walked past the four-poster bed that Amos had made. Charlotte recalled the first time she'd seen the bed, how ornate it was. Amos was clearly a great carpenter, she was just surprised since the Amish pride themselves on simplicity, and the bed was anything but plain. She tapped on the closed door to the bathroom.

“Lena, are you okay?”

“Ya
. I'm okay, Mary.
Danki
for checking.”

Charlotte stood there quietly for a few moments while Lena threw up again. When she seemed to be gasping for air, Charlotte opened the door. Lena's prayer covering was on the floor beside her, and most of her hair had fallen from the bun on top of her head. She
was sweating a lot, trembling, and her face was flushed. Charlotte found a washrag, wet it with cold water, and immediately dabbed at Lena's forehead, then her cheeks.

“You are going to bed.” Charlotte spoke with authority, knowing Lena would argue.

“Nee, nee.
I think it's all over. I'm fine.” She eased the wet rag from Charlotte's hand. “But you are sweet to come see about me.”

“Lena, have you had your period recently? Are you still having them regularly?” Charlotte didn't know much about menopause, but she didn't think it made you sick to your stomach like this. But maybe Lena did just have a bug.

“I-I don't usually talk about such things.” Lena pulled her eyes from Charlotte's.

“Sorry. But I was just wondering if you might be pregnant. If there's even that possibility, you need to get to a doctor pretty soon. You do know that having a baby at your age presents some risks, right?”

Lena nodded. “
Ya
, I know. And, since you asked,
ya
. . . I am still having my monthlies.”

Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. Then you're not pregnant.”

Lena sighed. “I just haven't had one in the past three months.”

Fourteen

D
anki
for doing this, Hannah.” Charlotte smiled, wishing there was a need to perfect the dialect, but she wouldn't need it soon.

Hannah rolled the dough over and over before she kneaded it for the second time. “I'm happy to show you how to make bread, but it wonders me how you couldn't know this.”

Charlotte kept her eyes on the soon-to-be bread, not wanting to miss a step. “Since I wasn't raised Amish, I really didn't learn how to cook.”

She hated the lies more than ever, but the worst part was, she wanted to believe them. She'd been trying to help out more with cleaning and cooking. She knew how to clean, even though she wasn't a big fan, but the cooking continued to be a challenge. Despite what she'd learned about Ethan, she'd be leaving this place knowing
that she wouldn't be alone ever again. She'd never been so grateful to have something pushed upon her as she was about her newfound knowledge of the Lord. She was terrified, though, that her new family would toss her out on the street once they found out who she really was. But Ryan had assured her repeatedly that it wasn't their way to be unforgiving.

“This has to rise for a while,” Hannah said as she nodded to the mound of dough. “Let's sit.”

Once they were both at the kitchen table, Hannah pushed back several strands of hair that had fallen from beneath her prayer covering, which left a floury residue on her cheek. “What are you doing?”

“A crossword puzzle. I had this on the plane to keep me entertained when I didn't feel like reading. But I'm stuck on one.”

“What is it?”

“A type of soup.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Soup is soup. I don't think the clue is referring to a kind of soup, though—like chicken, potato, or whatever. It starts with a
P
and ends with an
E
.”

“Puree,” Hannah said, smiling.

Charlotte wrote in the letters. “Yep. That's it. What about this one?” She pointed to another clue she was stuck on, and together they spent the next thirty minutes finishing the crossword puzzle. Maybe it would be easiest to first tell Hannah the truth about her identity, then let her break it to the rest of the family.

Hannah pointed to one of the words in the crossword puzzle, one Charlotte had filled in earlier. “What does that mean?”

Charlotte glanced at the sister-in-law she would have had under different circumstances and said, “Infidelity.”

Hannah twirled the string on her prayer covering. “Um . . . what does that mean?”

Charlotte disagreed with the Amish choice to only educate their children through the eighth grade. Hannah's limited vocabulary was a prime example. “It means cheating, adultery.”

Hannah scowled, still twirling the string. “That's one thing I never had to worry about with Ethan. He said his father cheated on his mother and that he could never do anything like that.”

Charlotte thought about what Isaac had told her. Prior to finding the picture, Charlotte couldn't have imagined her brother ever cheating either. Her stomach churned with a burning desire to tell Hannah the truth about Ethan, but she wasn't sure if it would help Hannah to move on or destroy her.

“After Ethan died, I didn't think I would ever find someone else.” Hannah sat back down, elbows on the table as she cupped her cheeks in her hands. “But maybe someday.”

“You know, I think your mom might be pregnant.” Charlotte wiggled her toes underneath the table. Her feet had never been so dirty, but she loved the freedom
of running around barefoot. Soon, it would be too cold, even during the day. “She hasn't had a period in three months.”

“Ach.
I'm not sure how she'll feel about that even though a child is always a gift from God.”

“She probably needs to find out for sure, one way or the other.” Charlotte tapped the pencil against the table. “And I should probably start thinking about going back to Texas.” The thought instantly depressed her.

Hannah reached over and touched Charlotte's hand. “I'm really going to miss you.”

As had become the norm, Charlotte started to tear up. “I've enjoyed my time here.”

Hannah sat taller as she placed both palms flat on the table, smiling. “There's no rule that says you can't stay.”

Oh, if you only knew.
Charlotte thought about Ryan. He'd be the only one who might miss her. Working from home doing editing had been great in the beginning, but she'd slowly become her own best friend. “Oh, can you give me the number for the driver you hire sometimes? A friend—an English friend—will be in Harrisburg, and I'm going to meet him for supper since he'll be so close.”

Hannah smiled. “
Ya
, of course. He?”

“Yes, it's a man I've known for a long time. His name is—” Charlotte stopped herself. Ethan might have mentioned Ryan at some point. “John. He's just a good friend,” she said. When this was all over, she was going to spend every extra moment asking God to forgive her lies.

She excused herself, worried that she would start to cry. Again.

Hannah kneaded the bread one more time, then put two loaves in the oven. It had been baking for about ten minutes when Mary returned. “It needed one more round of kneading, and I just put both pans in the oven.”

“I saw from my bedroom window your mother leaving. She was in a car.”

Hannah took off the oven mitts and set them on the counter. “
Ya
, she's going to the doctor in Lancaster. I offered to go with her, but she said she'd rather I tend to the goats.”

She heard a buggy coming, then watched as Isaac turned into the driveway. He stopped near the fence surrounding the yard, tethered his horse, and headed to the barn. A few minutes later he walked out carrying a wooden rocker, which explained the small trailer he was pulling behind the buggy.

“Isaac is here picking up some rocking chairs
Daed
made,” Hannah said as she watched him carting the chair as if it weighed no more than a pound or two. “You go visit with him. I'll keep an eye on the bread.” She walked to the counter where two more loaves of dough were rising. “He's having a lot of trouble with his parents. Maybe you can help him know what to do.”

“What kind of trouble?” Mary walked to the window, watching Isaac.

Hannah wasn't sure it was her place to tell Mary since Isaac had obviously chosen not to, but she did anyway since things sounded so bad at his house.

“That sounds like it might be a medication problem, especially if he's normal some of the time, then seems off at other times. Maybe some of his medicines don't play well together.”

“Maybe go tell him that. Hopefully, he won't be upset that I told you.”

Mary folded her hands across her chest and grinned. “You are the one he chose to confide in, so I think you should go talk to him.”