Chapter 7
Market Day
Hannah adjusted the basket of radishes against her hip before carefully placing it onto the back of the wagon beside the onions and carrots Miriam had already loaded. The cool morning air still carried traces of dawn, though warm sunlight had begun stretching across the farmyard.
Market days always started early. Usually by the time they left the farm, Hannah already felt exhausted.
But today somehow, it felt easier. Without carrying the heaviest baskets to save her sisters, she felt energized for the day that lay ahead. And that unsettled her more than it should have.
Daniel emerged from the barn carrying two crates of lettuce as though they weighed nothing at all.
In the five days since he’d arrived, the rhythm of the farm had already shifted around him in ways Hannah hadn’t anticipated.
The chicken coop had been repaired. The pasture fence no longer leaned dangerously in the wind.
And somehow Daniel always managed to finish his own tasks before quietly stepping into someone else’s work without needing direction.
Although he followed her lists of tasks daily, he also did tasks that hadn’t even made the list. It should have irritated her. Instead, it relieved her in ways she didn’t entirely know how to handle.
“Is this the last of it?” Daniel asked as he loaded the crates onto the wagon.
“Jah.” Hannah checked her list automatically before nodding. “I think we’re ready.”
Miriam climbed onto the wagon seat beside Lydia. “This is the most produce we’ve taken to market ever...”
The words settled heavily over the morning air. Hannah lowered her gaze quickly. She knew what her sister meant – since they had lost their parents. Beside her, Daniel said nothing. But somehow his silence felt respectful rather than uncomfortable.
“We should leave if we want a good spot,” Hannah said quietly.
The ride into town passed more easily than usual.
Lydia chatted about a neighboring farm’s new foal while Miriam debated which vegetables would sell quickest before noon.
Daniel listened more than he spoke, though every now and then Hannah caught him smiling at something one of her sisters said.
And each time she noticed it, warmth flickered unexpectedly inside her chest.
The market was already bustling by the time they arrived.
Wagons lined the road while vendors arranged baked goods, preserves, flowers, and produce beneath striped awnings.
Englisch customers drifted between stalls carrying baskets and chatting loudly over one another.
Normally market days left Hannah tense before they’d even begun.
There was too much to manage. Too much to remember. Too many things demanding her attention at once.
But before she could even begin directing the unloading, Daniel stepped naturally into the work.
“I’ll handle the heavier ones,” he said easily.
Miriam immediately handed him two baskets. Without needing instruction, Daniel lifted tables into place, secured the awning against the morning breeze, and arranged crates beside the stall in neat rows.
“You’ve done this before,” Hannah observed quietly.
Daniel glanced toward her while adjusting a basket of carrots.
“My uncle sold produce during the summers.”
Lydia began arranging onions while Hannah unpacked jars of preserves and bundles of herbs. As customers began approaching the stall, Daniel shifted naturally into conversation with them.
“Morning, ma’am. These fresh radishes were picked yesterday. And those onions keep well if stored somewhere cool.”
His voice remained calm and steady, never pushy, never overly familiar.
And customers responded warmly to him. Hannah tended to retreat from strangers and often sounded shy or standoffish, whereas Lydia could be overfamiliar. Hannah found herself watching him more than once throughout the morning.
Not because he demanded attention. Quite the opposite. Daniel simply… fit beside them.
As though he had quietly stepped into a space none of them had realized existed.
“You’re staring,” Daniel said with a teasing grin.
Hannah nearly dropped the bundle of parsley in her hands. Miriam smirked from beside the table.
“I was not,” Hannah quickly argued.
“You absolutely were,” Lydia laughed.
Hannah shot her sister a warning look before turning quickly toward a customer approaching the stall. Still, heat lingered stubbornly in her cheeks long afterward.
By midday the market had grown crowded. Usually by then Hannah’s shoulders would already ache from lifting crates while mentally tracking inventory, sales, and what still needed harvesting once they returned home. Today Daniel carried most of the heavier baskets before she even reached for them.
Whenever customers arrived during busy moments, he stepped in naturally without disrupting her rhythm. And for the first time in years, Hannah realized she wasn’t constantly bracing herself against exhaustion. The realization left her strangely emotional; it felt unfamiliar to rely on someone.
It felt frightening.
Late afternoon, as the market grew quiet and other vendors began to pack up, Hannah was surprised by how little produce they had left. Miriam counted coins while Lydia wandered briefly toward a nearby bakery stand. Daniel lifted the final crate onto the wagon before glancing toward Hannah.
“We sold nearly everything.” Hannah looked over the mostly empty stall in disbelief.
Daniel leaned one arm against the wagon. “Turns out hard work helps.”
Hannah laughed softly before she could stop herself. The sound startled both of them slightly. Because she realized suddenly how long it had been since laughter had come easily.
Daniel smiled then, a warm smile that spoke of understanding and something more. For one brief moment, everything else seemed to fade. The noise from the market, the sound of horses grunting and puffing close by, even the crunch of wagon wheels on the gravel road leading away from the market.
The only thing Hannah noticed was the strange, unfamiliar awareness settling between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, or even threatening; it was just… familiar. That frightened her even more.
Hannah looked away first.
“We should finish packing before Lydia buys half the bakery.”
Daniel chuckled softly beneath his breath.
“Jah, Hannah.”
The teasing warmth in his voice sent an entirely different kind of heat rushing through her chest.
“Besides, we still have some harvesting to do when we get back to the farm.”
His words and the understanding beneath them unsettled her far more than exhaustion ever had.