Chapter 2
The Long Way Back
Daniel Hostetler tightened the reins as the buggy crested the hill overlooking the community he had once called home.
For a long moment he sat there, staring out across the rolling green fields and scattered farmhouses nestled beneath the pale morning sky.
Spring had settled over the countryside.
Freshly plowed fields stretched dark against the soft green of new growth, and laundry fluttered gently on clotheslines in the breeze.
Everything looked smaller than he remembered. Or perhaps he was simply older now.
Six years.
Six years since he had driven away from this very hill with little more than a satchel of clothes and the heavy ache of grief sitting in his chest. Daniel swallowed hard and urged the horse forward.
The buggy wheels creaked softly over the familiar dirt roads as memories surfaced whether he wanted them to or not.
His father repairing fence posts beneath the summer sun.
Evenings spent shelling peas at the kitchen table—the smell of sawdust lingering on his clothing after long days working beside him in the barn.
And then illness. Slow and merciless.
By the time his father passed, there had been little left to save.
Medical bills and poor harvests had already placed the farm under strain.
Daniel had tried to hold things together for a while after the funeral, but a twenty-two-year-old man with no family and mounting debt had little chance against the bank.
The foreclosure notice had arrived less than two months later.
Daniel could still remember standing on the porch of the only home he had ever known while strangers assessed the property as if his entire life could be reduced to numbers scratched onto paper.
His uncle Matthew had arrived two days later and offered him a place to stay in Indiana.
At the time, leaving had felt less like a choice and more like surrender. Daniel adjusted his hat against the breeze as the bishop’s home finally came into view. The familiar white farmhouse stirred another uncomfortable wave of nostalgia in him.
Would people even remember him now?
He tied the horse near the barn before climbing down from the buggy. Dust clung to the hem of his trousers as he straightened. Before he could knock, the front door opened.
“Daniel Hostetler?” Bishop Beiler’s lined face softened with surprise.
Daniel dipped his head respectfully. “Guten mayrie, Bishop.”
“Guten mayrie.” The older man stepped aside immediately. “Come inside.”
Warmth wrapped around Daniel as he entered the house. The scent of coffee and frying potatoes filled the air, stirring memories of simpler mornings long buried beneath years of hard work and wandering. The bishop motioned toward the kitchen table. “Sit. I take it you’ve traveled far.”
“Jah, a few days. Denke.” Daniel removed his hat and settled carefully into the chair while Bishop Beiler’s wife poured him a steaming cup of coffee without needing to ask.
For a few moments, only silence filled the room. Not awkward silence. Amish silence.
The kind that allowed a man space to settle his thoughts.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve come home,” the bishop commented.
“Perhaps too long,” Daniel said quietly.
“I’m glad you’ve come then; this community will always be your home,” the bishop said before taking a sip of his coffee.
Daniel stared down at the dark coffee in his cup. “I hope so.” The words felt uncertain leaving his mouth, because he no longer knew if this place could still be called home.
“My uncle passed in January,” he explained quietly. “The farm belongs to my cousins now. They’ve no shortage of hands.”
“I heard about Matthew.” Sympathy softened the bishop’s voice. “He was a gut man.”
“He was.” And for six years he had been the closest thing Daniel had left of family.
The bishop folded his hands on the table. “What are your plans now?”
Daniel gave a faint shrug. “I hoped to find work nearby. Perhaps carpentry, repairs, even fieldwork until I can settle properly.”
The bishop studied him thoughtfully for a moment. “You’ve no place to stay?”
“Not yet, I was hoping you’d know of someone who perhaps would be willing to let me lease a dawdi haus?” The admission sat heavily in Daniel’s chest, though pride had long ago taught him the futility of pretending otherwise.
Bishop Beiler leaned back in his chair slowly. “There may be a farm that needs fieldwork and repairs, and they might even have a dawdi haus for you to use.”
Daniel looked up, hope slowly blooming in his chest. He had come here with nothing but a buggy and a few dollars to his name. The idea of finding work in his own community made it feel as if he had made the right choice.
“The Peachy farm,” the bishop said before taking a sip of his coffee.
The name landed unexpectedly hard.
Hannah Peachy.
He hadn’t heard her name spoken aloud in years, yet instantly he could picture her exactly as she had been the last time he’d seen her at seventeen. Standing outside the market with the afternoon sun catching the loose strands of brown hair escaping her kapp.
Although she had been five years younger than him, the maturity in her quiet eyes, her steady hands and shy smile wasn’t something he had forgotten in the years he had been gone.
“Hannah’s mann isn’t fond of farming? Does Mr. Peachy need help with the fields?” Daniel asked, picturing Hannah married with children of her own by now.
The bishop’s expression shifted slightly. “You haven’t heard.”
Daniel frowned. “Heard what?”
A heavy silence settled over the kitchen.
“Hannah’s parents passed shortly after you left.”
The words struck with startling force. Daniel stared at the bishop, certain he must have misunderstood. “Passed away?”
“An accident during a storm.” The bishop sighed quietly. “An Englisch truck lost control on wet roads.”
Daniel felt something hollow open sharply in his chest. “Nee… Hannah would’ve barely been eighteen, her schweschders even younger…”
He remembered her father’s booming laugh at community gatherings. Her mother pressing extra food onto everyone’s plates whether they asked for it or not.
“Hannah took responsibility for everything. The farm. The household. Raising her sisters. She’s been very dedicated, but there is more work to be done than there are capable hands. The farm, the haus… it could do with some help.”
Daniel shook his head faintly in disbelief. He tried to picture Hannah now and couldn’t. All he could feel was admiration. He had struggled to deal with his own grief when he had lost his father, but she had to face that loss while caring for her younger siblings.
“They’re looking for help?” Daniel asked, hoping to ease the burdens the girl he remembered had carried for so many years.
The bishop shrugged. “Hannah has never asked, but I can see that help is needed. They may not be able to pay you well, or at all for that matter.”
“I have money saved; I’d be happy to help,” Daniel said without even considering what he was saying.
The bishop nodded. “Let me speak with Hannah today and see if she is open to the suggestion. Perhaps room and board in exchange for labor until the farm is profitable again?”
Daniel nodded slowly. “If she’s willing.”
“I suspect her pride may object before practicality does.” The bishop’s eyes twinkled faintly. “But Hannah has always done what is necessary.”
That sounded exactly like her.
Bishop Beiler stood from the table. “You may stay here for now. The guest bedroom is yours.”
Relief flickered through Daniel before he quickly tempered it with gratitude. “Denke, Bishop. I appreciate it.”
The older man rested a hand briefly against his shoulder. “Welcome home, Daniel. I’m sure Gott will find a way to let you settle in this community once more.”
Daniel nodded, though his gaze drifted once more toward the window. Toward the distant fields beyond, toward the farm where Hannah Peachy had spent six years carrying responsibilities that should never have belonged to someone so young.
And for the first time since crossing back into the community that morning, Daniel no longer felt quite so certain that returning home had only been about finding work.
Perhaps it had been the Lord’s guidance, guiding him where he was needed.