Chapter 6
A Burden Shared
Daniel wiped sweat from the back of his neck before driving the shovel into the earth once more.
Morning sunlight had long since burned away the lingering coolness of dawn, leaving warmth to settle heavily across the fields surrounding the Peachy farmhouse.
By midmorning they had already repaired a section of fencing, hauled haybales down from the hayloft, and planted two full rows of beans.
And Hannah had not stopped moving once. Daniel straightened slowly, leaning one forearm against the shovel handle while his gaze drifted toward her across the field.
She worked several yards away beside Lydia, kneeling in the dirt as she thinned rows of carrots with quick, practiced movements.
Even from a distance, he could see the efficiency in everything Hannah did. No wasted motion. No unnecessary pause.
Just steady work from sunrise onward.
“She’s going to work herself into an early grave.” Miriam’s voice startled him slightly.
Daniel glanced toward her as she dropped another basket near the wagon. Sweat darkened the loose strands of hair escaping her kapp, though, unlike Hannah, Miriam carried her exhaustion loudly.
“She’s been doing this for years?” Daniel asked carefully.
Miriam snorted softly. “Try telling Hannah not to work and see what happens.”
Daniel found himself smiling faintly. “I imagine she wouldn’t take kindly to the suggestion.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Miriam wiped her forehead with the edge of her apron before lowering her voice slightly.
“She thinks if she stops moving for too long, everything will fall apart.” The words settled heavily in Daniel’s chest.
Because he understood that thinking better than he wanted to admit.
Before he could respond, Hannah looked up from the field. “Miriam, if you’ve finished talking, those baskets still need loading.”
Miriam rolled her eyes dramatically.
“See?”
Daniel chuckled softly under his breath.
Hannah shook her head before returning to work, though Daniel caught the brief twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth.
It surprised him how much he’d begun noticing those moments.
The small rare smiles. The quiet humor hidden beneath responsibility. The exhaustion she tried so carefully to hide.
And somehow those things drew him toward her far more than beauty ever could.
By noon, the sun set high overhead.
Hannah finally straightened fully, pressing a hand briefly against her lower back before reaching for another basket.
Daniel noticed immediately. Without thinking, he crossed the distance between them.
“I’ll carry that.”
Hannah blinked at him, clearly startled by how suddenly he’d appeared beside her.
“It’s not heavy,” Hannah argued as she continued to walk.
Daniel stayed by her side. “That doesn’t mean you should carry it.” The words slipped out more firmly than he intended.
For a moment they simply looked at one another.
Then Hannah slowly released the basket handle.
“Denke.”
Daniel lifted the basket easily before nodding toward the edge of the field.
“You should sit for a few minutes.”
A faint crease appeared between her brows.
“There’s still work needing done.”
“There will still be work needing done in ten minutes.”
Something unreadable flickered briefly across her face. Not annoyance exactly. More like uncertainty. As though she genuinely didn’t know what to do with the suggestion.
Finally Hannah brushed dirt from her apron. “Lydia,” she called, “can you please finish this row while Miriam starts unloading the wagon?”
“Jah, Hannah.”
Daniel carried the basket toward the shade of the maple tree near the well pump while Hannah followed beside him quietly. For several moments neither of them spoke. The silence felt easier now than it had two days ago. Not comfortable exactly. But no longer strained.
Daniel set the basket down beneath the tree before lowering himself onto the grass nearby.
Hannah hesitated briefly before sitting several feet away, smoothing her apron carefully over her knees.
A warm breeze stirred through the branches overhead.
Daniel tipped his face toward the shade gratefully.
“Your schweschders are gut workers.”
“They’ve had no choice.” The immediate sadness in her voice made him glance toward her.
Hannah looked out across the fields instead of at him.
“I tried not to ask too much from them after Mamm and Daed passed,” she admitted quietly. “But farms don’t stop needing work simply because people are grieving.”
Daniel understood that too well.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then he said softly, “You were only eighteen.”
Hannah gave a faint shrug. “I was old enough.”
The simplicity of the statement struck him harder than any dramatic confession could have. No bitterness or self-pity. Just truth.
Daniel studied her quietly. Most people would have broken beneath the kind of responsibility she carried. Instead Hannah had simply… endured.
“You’ve done a remarkable job,” he said honestly.
Color rose faintly in her cheeks.
“We’ve survived.” The words echoed something Lydia had said yesterday.
Daniel leaned back against the tree trunk. “You know surviving and living aren’t supposed to be the same thing.”
For the first time, Hannah looked directly at him.
Something vulnerable flickered briefly behind her guarded expression before she quickly lowered her gaze again.
“Sometimes survival is enough, especially when you don’t have another choice.”
The quietness of her voice unsettled him more than if she’d sounded angry. Because it sounded like someone who had convinced herself she no longer deserved more. Daniel found himself watching the sunlight dance across the loose strands of hair near her cheek.
He remembered her differently somehow. At seventeen she had seemed shy and careful. Now she felt… worn thin in places life shouldn’t wear someone thin. And yet stronger too. Stronger than anyone had probably ever given her credit for.
A breeze stirred again, carrying the scent of fresh earth and growing things between them.
“You’ve changed,” Hannah said suddenly, surprising him.
Daniel smiled faintly. “Hopefully for the better.”
“You’re quieter.”
“I was always quiet.” Daniel shrugged.
“Not this quiet,” Hannah argued quietly.
The observation caught him slightly off guard because it meant she remembered him too.
Daniel rubbed a hand thoughtfully across the back of his neck.
“Life has a way of settling a man.”
Hannah nodded slowly as though she understood exactly what he meant. And perhaps she did.
Across the yard, Miriam suddenly shouted something toward Lydia, followed immediately by laughter.
The sound pulled Hannah’s attention toward the farmhouse. A softness entered her expression as she watched her sisters. Daniel noticed how quickly that softness disappeared once responsibility returned to her thoughts.
She stood abruptly. “We should get back to work.”
Of course.
Still, something had shifted during those few quiet moments beneath the tree. Daniel rose beside her before reaching automatically for the empty baskets. This time Hannah didn’t protest when he carried them. And somehow that felt important too.
She was no longer fighting his presence, but finally giving in to accepting the help she needed.