Chapter 10
Do Not Trust in Your Own Understanding
Sleep refused to come.
Daniel stared up at the ceiling of the dawdi haus before finally giving up entirely. Moonlight spilled softly through the thin curtains while the quiet hum of crickets drifted through the open window. With a quiet sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled on his boots.
One month.
It had been one month since he’d arrived at the Peachy farm and was back in the community which he had fled after too much loss.
Now the thought of leaving unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.
Daniel stepped outside into the cool spring night, drawing in a slow breath as he crossed the yard.
Lantern light flickered faintly from the barn, immediately catching his attention.
At this hour? It was close to midnight. Curious, he headed toward it. The barn doors stood partially open, allowing silver moonlight to spill across the worn wooden floor. Inside, Hannah sat on an overturned crate beside several baskets overflowing with onions.
She looked up in surprise when he stepped inside. “Daniel? What are you doing up at this hour?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” His voice remained quiet as he nodded toward the onions. “Couldn’t sleep?”
A faint smile touched her lips. “Something like that.”
Daniel leaned briefly against the stall door beside her. “You know most folks sleep at night.”
“That sounds suspiciously like criticism coming from someone who also isn’t sleeping,” Hannah shrugged with a small grin.
“Think of it as concern,” Daniel smiled.
He had never met anyone who worked as hard as Hannah, and he himself was a hard worker.
The soft warmth in his voice seemed to catch her off guard.
She looked up, her eyes unguarded for a moment.
For a moment neither of them moved. Hannah was the first to look away, then picked up another bundle of onions and began carefully braiding the stems together.
“Couldn’t this wait until morning?” Daniel asked.
Hannah shrugged.
“It could, but it’s better to keep busy than to stare at a ceiling and remind myself it needs painting.”
Daniel reached for a crate and turned it over. He took a seat and reached for some onions before a chuckle escaped him.
“The last time I braided onions it was with my mamm; I don’t even think I remember how.”
“You don’t have to help,” Hannah pointed out, her hands working with practiced ease.
“Some skills are worth keeping,” Daniel chuckled as he fumbled his first attempt.
Hannah smiled and set her braid aside. “Here, let me show you.”
She stood behind him and leaned over his shoulder.
With patience and care, she slowly guided him, telling him which line should go where when.
Daniel was hyper-aware of her presence, her warmth, and the faint scent of soap still lingering on her skin.
When he fumbled again, she reached over and guided his hand to the right spot.
His heart skipped a beat as warmth flooded his chest. He hadn’t come here looking for anything more than a chance to build his life; now he found himself developing feelings for a woman who didn’t need any more complications in her life.
When he finally finished the first braid with Hannah’s watchful eye, a smile curved his mouth as he held it up for inspection.
“Gut enough for you?”
Hannah stepped back, and a small chuckle escaped her.
“For a twelve-year-old, but it’ll do. The next one will be better.”
The familiar quiet settled easily between them as they worked. Outside, the wind rustled softly through the trees, while, nearby, a horse shifted in its stall. Daniel watched Hannah’s hands move skillfully through the braids.
“You’ve done this for years,” Daniel said as Hannah finished three braids while he worked on one.
Hannah nodded. “Every onion season since I was little.”
Something softened in her expression as she worked. “Mamm used to braid onions while Miriam and I sat beside her talking. Lydia usually disappeared before she could be asked to help. The smell… she struggles with it.”
Daniel chuckled softly. “Some things never change.” That earned a quiet laugh from Hannah.
The sound still affected him far more than it should have. A month ago her laughter had felt rare enough to surprise him; now, although it came easier, he still noticed it every single time.
“The fields are looking gut; every week we have more to take to the market,” Daniel said after a while.
Hannah’s hands stilled briefly around the braid she was working on. “Jah,” she admitted quietly. “The farm is doing better than it has in years.” There was something almost cautious in her voice.
As though she was afraid to trust good things too completely.
“The extra crops helped,” she continued softly. “And the repairs. Your help. Starting the day in the fields instead of making temporary repairs has lifted my schweschders spirits too.”
Daniel studied her carefully in the lantern light. “I’m glad I can help.”
For the first time since he’d arrived, Hannah no longer looked like someone carrying the entire world alone. “You do too much,” Hannah said quietly.
He could hear the argument in her voice, but also the gratitude.
Knowing that he could help, could offer a little relief stirred something deep and dangerous inside him.
“You don’t have to carry everything yourself anymore.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Hannah’s gaze lifted slowly toward his. Something vulnerable flickered there briefly.
“I’ve had to for a long time.”
Daniel nodded once.
“I know, but I’m here now.”
Hannah looked up then, her gaze meeting his in the quiet barn. The silence between them shifted then. This time he could see the real Hannah. Not the Hannah that tried to carry all the burdens, the one that protected her sisters and hid her grief.
He could see her for the woman she truly was. A beautiful, gentle soul that he just wanted to protect, to cherish and to celebrate. The pull toward her settled heavily inside his chest. And judging by the way Hannah lowered her gaze first, she felt it too.
That frightened her; Daniel could see it plainly. She wasn’t afraid of him; she was afraid of relying on someone. Afraid of losing someone.
Slowly, Hannah stood and carried the finished onion braids toward the hanging rack near the wall. She was giving herself space; Daniel allowed her to. Because pushing Hannah Peachy would only make her retreat further behind responsibility and caution. He understood that now too.
By the time they finished the last basket, the barn had grown quiet again, and it was long past midnight.
“I should head inside,” Hannah murmured as a yawn escaped her.
Daniel nodded. “Guten nacht, Hannah.”
“Guten nacht, Daniel,” she said with a tired smile. “Denke for helping. You’re welcome to sleep in tomorrow morning.”
“Will you be sleeping in?” Daniel asked with a cocked brow.
Hannah chuckled. “Not likely.”
“Then I’ll meet you in the kitchen for kaffe, our usual time?” Daniel asked.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized it sounded like an appointment, a date for a buggy ride.
A light blush colored her cheeks as she nodded before escaping the barn.
She disappeared into the darkness outside while Daniel remained standing alone in the barn for several long moments afterward.
A verse came to mind as if someone had just whispered it in his ear.
Proverbs 3:5-6 - Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.
Daniel closed his eyes briefly. Because somewhere during the past month, his path had led him here.
To this farm.
To this family.
To Hannah Peachy.
And whether it was wise or not… Daniel was beginning to realize he was falling in love with her.