Chapter 3
A Bishop’s Proposal
The rhythmic scrape of Lydia’s hoe against the soil echoed through the field as Hannah straightened slowly, pressing a hand against the small ache forming in her lower back.
Morning sunlight warmed the rows of young lettuce and carrots stretching across the garden, though the coolness of spring still lingered in the breeze.
“We’ll need to harvest some of the radishes tomorrow,” Miriam called from two rows over. “I know they’re still small, but the market stand looked thin last week.”
Hannah nodded, wiping perspiration from her forehead with the back of her sleeve. “Jah, and we should pull more onions too.”
The list in her mind continued to grow faster than she could complete it.
The chicken coop still needed repairs before summer storms arrived. Half the fencing near the south pasture leaned badly enough that she worried every time the wind picked up. The porch steps creaked more each week, and the dawdi haus needed more repairs than she could even think of.
But repairs cost money, money they rarely had left over after feed, seed, and living expenses.
“Hannah?”
Lydia’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
“Hm?” Hannah asked, looking up.
“The bishop’s buggy is coming up the lane,” Lydia said with a tone of confusion.
Hannah shaded her eyes against the sun. Sure enough, Bishop Beiler’s buggy rolled steadily toward the farmhouse.
A small knot tightened in her stomach. Every time she saw the bishop’s buggy pull up to their homestead, she remembered the night he had come to tell them of her parents’ accident.
“Maybe he’s bringing pie,” Lydia offered hopefully.
Miriam chuckled softly. “The bishop’s wife brings pie. The bishop brings work…or news.” Despite herself, Hannah smiled faintly.
“That’s enough chatter. Finish the row before dinner,” Hannah said as she brushed dirt from her apron and started toward the house to greet their visitor.
By the time Bishop Beiler climbed down from his buggy, Hannah had already stepped onto the porch.
“Guten mayrie, Bishop.”
“Guten mayrie, Hannah.” His warm gaze settled on her kindly. “I hope I’m not interrupting; I can see you are busy in the fields this time of day.”
“Not at all.” Hannah smiled patiently, although interruptions usually meant time lost somewhere else.
The bishop removed his hat as she opened the door to let him inside. The familiar scent of yeast and coffee lingered in the kitchen from breakfast earlier that morning.
“Would you like some kaffe? It should still be hot?”
“Denke, Hannah, at my age you don’t decline a kick of caffeine,” the bishop chuckled. Hannah poured him a fresh cup before settling carefully across from him at the table.
For a moment, the bishop studied her quietly. “You’ve taken on another two acres this season.” It wasn’t a question.
Hannah nodded. “We still have quite a few acres we aren’t using. I know it’s more work, but we could do with the income,” Hannah admitted solemnly.
The bishop sighed softly into his coffee cup. “Hannah… there’s no shame in admitting when a burden becomes too heavy.”
Immediately her spine stiffened. “We’re managing, bishop. Denke for your concern.”
The bishop seemed to notice her resistance because he changed direction gently. “A young man returned to the community yesterday.”
Hannah frowned slightly, unsure what that had to do with anything. “Returned? Who might that be?”
The bishop met her gaze. “You might remember him; he was a few years older than you, but you might have attended the schoolhouse during the same years. Daniel Hostetler?”
For one brief foolish moment, Hannah was seventeen again, standing outside the market beneath warm autumn sunlight. At the same time, Daniel leaned against a wagon beside her, speaking softly enough that she’d struggled to hear him over the noise around them.
Daniel Hostetler had once made her nervous in ways she had never fully understood. He’d left the community before she could take the time to try and understand. And then life had changed too quickly for her to ever think about him again.
“He’s come back?” Hannah asked curiously. “It’s been years since he left.”
“Jah, it has been. His uncle passed recently, and Daniel has returned hoping to find a place for himself in the community once again.”
“I see.” Hannah nodded, cupping her coffee in her hands, although she didn’t see how this should affect her at all.
“He’s a gut mann, Hannah. He has experience with fieldwork, carpentry, repairs…”
Understanding dawned almost immediately.
“Nee.”
Bishop Beiler raised his eyebrows mildly.
“You haven’t even heard my suggestion.”
“I already know it, but we simply can’t afford to hire extra help. My schweschders and I will manage,” Hannah said confidently, although she doubted her own words almost immediately.
The bishop leaned back slightly, studying her with far too much understanding for comfort.
The bishop continued carefully. “He is willing to work for room and board, Hannah. He isn’t expecting wages.
You need the help, and from what I’ve just seen, the dawdi haus could do with some repairs.
He won’t be underfoot, except for meal times.
” The bishop paused and held her gaze. “The farm, your schweschders, could both do with a little extra help, Hannah.”
Hannah stared down at the worn grain of the kitchen table. The suggestion felt almost too good to be true. A free set of hands in exchange for meals and a living in a dawdi haus that they weren’t using at all.
Then there was another thing holding her back; would he still make her nervous?
“It isn’t proper,” she murmured weakly.
The bishop’s mouth twitched slightly. “There is nothing improper about honest work and a roof over a man’s head.”
A knock sounded at the open screen door before Miriam stepped inside carrying a basket of weeds pulled from the garden.
“Hullo, Bishop. This is a surprise; I hope you bring gut news?”
“Guten mayrie, Miriam.” The bishop smiled warmly at her sister. “I believe I did, but I guess that’s up to your schweschder.”
Hannah shot a look at Miriam, making it clear she was supposed to have stayed in the fields helping Lydia.
“Hannah is considering whether to allow Daniel Hostetler to stay in the dawdi haus while helping with repairs and fieldwork,” the bishop explained.
“You mean he’d help on the farm? In the fields? Fix the porch?” Hannah shot her a look, but Miriam ignored it completely.
The bishop nodded. “Exactly, all he wants in return is room and board.”
“Hannah nearly fell asleep at the kitchen table last week,” she said bluntly. “Of course, she wouldn’t admit it. This couldn’t have come at a better time, bishop. Did you see we’ve plowed another two acres?”
“Miriam,” Hannah warned softly.
But the damage was done.
The bishop looked entirely unsurprised.
Lydia appeared in the doorway a moment later, curiosity bright on her face. “Who is coming help?”
“Daniel Hostetler may stay in the dawdi haus,” Miriam answered before Hannah could stop her.
Lydia’s expression shifted instantly.
“Oh.”
Hannah noticed it immediately; Lydia had always disliked change.
And this would change everything.
“He would only stay temporarily,” Hannah said quickly, though she wasn’t entirely sure why she felt the need to reassure her sister.
Miriam leaned against the counter. “I think it’s a gut idea.”
“Of course you do,” Lydia muttered.
Miriam crossed her arms. “We need help. Help would mean more produce, Hannah.”
“We’ve managed this long,” Hannah quickly added.
“Barely,” Lydia said quietly. “More like survived.”
Silence fell heavily across the kitchen.
Hannah closed her eyes briefly; she hated that word perhaps because it was true.
They had survived; they hadn't thrived since they had lost their parents.
Perhaps she shouldn’t agree to this for the farm, but for her sisters. To give them the opportunity she never had to spend time with friends and attend Sunday singings…
The bishop spoke gently into the silence.
“Hannah, you’ve never wanted help; you’ve been stubbornly taking on all the responsibility. Of your schweschders, the farm… This will be gut for you, Hannah.” The bishop glanced at her sisters. “For all of you.”
After a long moment, Hannah finally looked up. “If he stays, there will be rules.” Relief flickered briefly across Miriam’s face.
The bishop nodded. “Of course.”
“He stays in the dawdi haus. Meals in the farmhouse only. The arrangement remains temporary until he finds something permanent.”
“All reasonable,” the bishop agreed.
“And as soon as we can afford it, we’ll pay him wages,” Hannah insisted.
“He’s not asking for wages,” the bishop pointed out again.
“I won’t accept charity.” The words came sharper than intended.
The bishop studied her quietly before nodding once. “Very well.”
Hannah released a slow breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Somewhere deep inside her chest, unease and relief tangled together painfully.
Because allowing Daniel Hostetler onto their farm felt dangerous in ways she could not yet explain.
And perhaps even more dangerous was the small, exhausted part of her that was already relieved he was coming.
The bishop got to his feet and returned his hat to his head. “I’ll have him come later this afternoon to get settled in.”
“I’ll make sure there are clean linens for the dawdi haus,” Hannah promised quietly.
“I’ll do it,” Lydia quickly offered, suddenly excited at the idea of change.
Miriam’s face lit up with hope as well. “I’ll cook him a welcome supper.”
Hannah let out a quiet sigh. Why did what should feel like relief, suddenly feel like her entire world was about to change?