Chapter 8
A Farmhouse Dinner
Daniel smiled as he washed his hands at the water pump behind the house. His gaze traveled over the fields, now filled with produce. He had always enjoyed field work, farm work – you could see your efforts paying off.
As he walked up towards the house, the scent of roasted chicken, fresh bread, and coffee met him at the back door. Laughter drifted through the window, making him smile. Hannah’s laughter.
It had been three weeks since he had come to stay on the Peachy farm, and her laughter seemed to come a little easier every day.
And though Daniel kept the thought to himself, supper in the Peachy farmhouse had quietly become his favorite part of the day.
Not because of the food, but because of what waited around the table.
Company, conversation, and a strong sense of faith.
He stepped inside, removing his hat as warmth wrapped around him. Miriam sat sideways in her chair peeling potatoes for tomorrow’s breakfast while Lydia stole pieces of bread from the cooling rack near the stove.
“Hannah,” Lydia complained dramatically around a mouthful of bread, “Miriam keeps threatening me with work. Do I really have to do the laundry tomorrow morning?”
“That’s because you keep disappearing every time there’s work needing done,” Miriam shot back.
“I don’t disappear; I just have a habit of remembering there is something else I’d rather do,” Lydia teased back.
Daniel chuckled softly as he took his usual seat near the end of the table. Hannah glanced toward him from the stove, and for one brief moment her expression softened into something dangerously close to amusement.
“There’ll be no strategic disappearing during strawberry harvesting tomorrow,” she informed Lydia calmly. “After you’ve done the laundry.”
Lydia groaned loudly. “See? This is exactly the oppression I was talking about.”
“That word doesn’t mean what you think it means,” Miriam muttered.
Daniel watched Hannah hide a smile as she carried the serving dishes to the table.
That had changed too. Not dramatically. But enough that he noticed.
The deep exhaustion that had once settled permanently beneath her eyes had eased slightly over the past few weeks.
She still worked harder than anyone should, but now there were moments—small fleeting moments—where she looked less like someone simply surviving the day.
Her face no longer looked gaunt, but rosy from days in the sun and a good night’s rest.
And each time Daniel noticed one of those moments, something inside his chest tightened quietly. During the six years he had lived in another community, he had experienced a fleeting attraction now and then. Nothing that made him consider courtship but enough to get his attention.
This tightening feeling in his chest felt different, dangerous yet important somehow.
“Daniel,” Lydia asked suddenly, “is it true you once got kicked by a mule?”
Miriam immediately laughed. “Where did you hear that?”
Hannah looked up from pouring coffee. “Lydia, don’t pry.”
“What? I’m curious.” Lydia shrugged. “Besides, I overheard him telling some of the boys after Sunday service the other day. Why do men always think only other men will enjoy stories like that?”
Daniel chuckled. “It happened once.”
“Once?” Miriam repeated. “That sounds like there’s a story.”
“There’s definitely a story,” Lydia agreed eagerly.
Daniel leaned back slightly in his chair. “The mule belonged to my uncle. Mean creature hated everyone equally.”
“Why?” Lydia asked honestly. “We’ve never had a mean horse ever.”
“Well, I don’t know why that mule didn’t like people, but it didn’t.
It was, however, very fond of a cat. A tabby cat, if I remember correctly.
I had just arrived in the community, and I didn’t know about the cat and the mule’s friendship.
So one evening I heard the mule grunting and puffing and the cat meowing and expected the worst.” Daniel leaned back as he colored in the story from memory.
“There the cat was twirling between the mule’s legs, and I was certain that at any moment the mule was going to kick him. ”
Hannah chuckled, her eyes warm with amusement.
“Needless to say, I was the one who got kicked. The cat continued to visit that mule until the day I left,” Daniel finished. “I never interfered with their friendship again.”
“Did it hurt?” Lydia asked.
“Hurt my pride more than anything.” Daniel laughed. “Especially when I tried to explain to my uncle that I was trying to save the cat – who also dislikes people as much as the mule.”
That earned a quiet laugh from Hannah. The sound caught him off guard enough that he looked toward her immediately. She lowered her gaze quickly, though not before he noticed the warmth lingering there. And for just a second, Hannah looked younger somehow, almost lighter.
Daniel found himself staring a moment too long before forcing his attention back toward his plate.
Dangerous.
That was becoming dangerous. Because somewhere during the past three weeks, the Peachy farm had started feeling less like a temporary arrangement and more like home. And Hannah… Daniel reached automatically for his coffee before stopping the thought entirely.
No good came from letting himself think too long about Hannah Peachy. Not when she still carried herself like someone afraid to lean too heavily on anything that might disappear. Supper continued easily around him.
Lydia talked endlessly about a foal born on a neighboring farm while Miriam argued about whether the strawberries would be ready for market by Saturday. Every now and then Hannah added a thought or smiled at something her sisters said.
Daniel listened more than he spoke, content simply observing the easy rhythm unfolding around the table. Every now and then the tension would leave Hannah’s shoulders for a brief moment before it stiffened with the weight of responsibility again.
But Daniel noticed. He noticed everything about her now. By the time the meal ended, dusk had begun settling softly outside the kitchen windows.
Miriam pushed back her chair with a dramatic sigh.
“I suppose it’s my turn for dishes.”
“It is,” Lydia confirmed far too quickly. “At least you don’t have to do laundry in the morning.”
Miriam narrowed her eyes.
“You seem awfully pleased about that.”
“I’m pleased it isn’t my turn to do the dishes. I love roasted chicken, but I hate scrubbing the roasting dish.”
Hannah stood automatically, already reaching for the plates. “You two deserve a night off; let me.”
Miriam’s eyes widened with pleased surprise. “Well, if you insist, I could do with a long hot bath.”
Lydia laughed. “You always take a long hot bath.”
Daniel rose before Hannah could gather the dishes herself.
“I’ll help.”
Three sets of eyes turned toward him immediately.
“It’s not your responsibility,” Hannah said quietly.
Daniel reached for the empty serving bowls anyway. “Just because it’s not on your list doesn’t mean I can’t do it.” To his surprise, Miriam laughed loudly. Even Hannah looked momentarily caught between exasperation and amusement.
“Well,” Lydia announced while standing from the table, “if Daniel’s helping with dishes, then I’m absolutely going to bed.”
“Coward,” Miriam muttered.
“Strategically disappearing,” Lydia corrected before vanishing down the hallway. Daniel carried the dishes toward the sink while Miriam excused herself. Hannah shot her sister almost a desperate look, one she probably thought Daniel didn’t notice.
“What?” She grinned unapologetically at Hannah. “Daniel’s helping.”
Before Hannah could argue further, Miriam disappeared down the hallway too. Silence settled over the kitchen as Hannah began to wash the dishes. The soft crackle of the woodstove filled the room while evening shadows stretched slowly across the floorboards.
“You don’t actually have to help with this,” Hannah said, glancing over her shoulder as Daniel returned with the rest of the dishes.
“I know,” Daniel answered quietly.
For several moments they worked quietly beside one another, and somehow that felt far more intimate than it should have.
“You’ve done enough work today already,” Hannah murmured eventually.
Daniel glanced sideways at her. Without Miriam and Lydia filling the silence, the room suddenly felt much smaller.
“I could say the same thing about you.”
Hannah shrugged. “It’s different for me; this is… it’s our heritage. It’s all we have left of my parents.”
Daniel let out a quiet sigh as her words struck too close to home.
“Ach, I’m sorry, Daniel, I forgot… your farm… I wasn’t thinking…” Hannah quickly apologized and turned to him.
She turned too quickly to realize how close they would be.
Daniel shook his head. “You’re right, and they would be proud of how you’ve taken responsibility of your heritage, of your schweschders, of the farm. You’ve become a capable and hard-working woman, Hannah. One that I’ve come to admire…”
The distance between them suddenly felt smaller than the two feet that it actually was.
Hannah didn’t say a word; instead, she searched his gaze. As if trying to find out if it was truth or simply flattery.
Daniel felt a pull towards her, as if she had become the gravity that kept his feet firmly on the ground.
He wanted to say more, but he could see it was too soon.
It didn’t matter what he felt for Hannah Peachy, or how it had caught him off guard; she wasn’t ready.
She wasn’t ready to take a chance on loving someone only to lose them again.
Daniel stepped back.
“Here, let me wash, and you dry for a while.”