Chapter 11
A Schweschder’s Intuition
Morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen windows as Hannah kneaded bread dough with far more force than necessary. Flour dusted her apron and clung to her fingertips while the familiar rhythm of baking usually brought her peace. But today her thoughts refused to settle.
Again.
It had been three days since the night in the barn, and ever since then something inside her felt painfully unsettled.
Every glance from Daniel lingered too long in her mind.
Every quiet conversation felt heavier somehow.
And worst of all, Hannah had begun noticing how easily being alone with him stripped away the careful walls she had spent years building around herself.
She now understood why buggy rides occurred only after courtship was established. Because privacy changed things, quiet moments changed things. And being alone with Daniel Hostetler made it impossible to ignore feelings she no longer knew how to explain away.
The kitchen door creaked open behind her.
“What did that dough ever do to you?”
Hannah startled slightly before glancing over her shoulder to find Miriam leaning against the doorway holding a basket of fresh laundry.
“I’m kneading it for bread. A gut knead gives it a gut rise.”
Miriam raised an eyebrow. “Or it can cause the bread to have the texture of beef jerky, jah?”
Hannah sighed softly. “I’m a long way from over-kneading it,” Hannah said before returning her attention to the dough. “Shouldn’t you be hanging wash?”
“I finished doing that an hour ago; since then, I’ve weeded the tomatoes and watered the carrots,” Miriam replied easily. “What’s wrong, Hannah? You’ve been distracted for days now; this isn’t like you, schweschder.”
Hannah’s hands stilled briefly. “I’m not.”
“Hannah.” Miriam’s voice softened slightly. “You put salt in the kaffe yesterday.”
Horror immediately crossed Hannah’s face. “I did not.”
“You absolutely did. Lydia nearly spat hers across the table; we didn’t tell you because we thought you were tired. I see now it’s something else that’s bothering you,” Miriam’s voice gentled.
Despite herself, Hannah felt heat creep into her cheeks.
She had wondered why Lydia kept making dramatic faces during breakfast.
Miriam crossed the kitchen slowly before sitting at the table. “You’ve barely said two words all morning. Kumm, sit with me. I’m not a kinner anymore, Hannah. You can talk to me.”
Hannah sighed as she covered the dough to rise. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” The quiet understanding in Miriam’s voice made Hannah uncomfortable.
Because she knew exactly what her sister was really saying, her distraction was obvious, and Miriam was trying to help. Trying to help carry a burden, but this was a burden her sister couldn’t share.
Miriam studied her for a long moment before speaking again. “Is this about Daniel?”
The question landed so suddenly that Hannah nearly dropped the dough entirely.
“Nee,” she quickly replied. Far too quickly.
Miriam’s expression turned immediately smug. “Oh, it’s definitely about Daniel.”
Hannah wiped her hands against her apron before turning toward the counter, pretending to organize ingredients that were already perfectly organized. “It’s not about Daniel,” Hannah protested too firmly.
A laugh escaped Miriam before her expression softened slightly. “It is definitely about Daniel. I’ve seen the way he watches you, Hannah. With respect, with patience and kindness… one day I hope a mann watches me the same way.”
“You’ve been in the sun too long,” Hannah warned.
“And you’ve been ignoring your own needs and emotions for too long.
Since we lost mamm and daed, you’ve been carrying all the weight, Hannah.
You’ve been trying so hard to shield Lydia and me…
and I understand in the beginning you had to.
But we’ve grown up, Hannah. Isn’t it time you listened to your own heart, thought about your dreams? ” Miriam asked gently.
Hannah shook her head. “Miriam, don’t… It’s nothing really.”
Except Hannah knew that what happened in the barn… for a few moments it was something. Something stronger than she had ever felt before. Something that made her think of her future, of her feelings, of what she wanted for herself.
“Hannah.” She waited until Hannah finally looked at her again. “You know it’s all right if there is something.”
Immediately Hannah’s chest tightened.
Because that was precisely the problem: something was happening. Something she couldn’t explain or understand. Something that made her dream about having someone to lean on, having someone to share her life with, building a home and a family with joy, not out of responsibility.
That something was slowly making her realize she was reaching the point of no return.
Like rain soaking into dry ground before you fully realized the storm had arrived. A point that would break her heart when Daniel finally moved on.
“He’s only here temporarily,” Hannah murmured.
The words sounded weaker aloud than they had inside her head.
Miriam tilted her head slightly. “Do you want him to be?” Hannah didn’t answer.
Because somewhere over the past month, Daniel had become woven into the rhythm of the farm so naturally that imagining him gone again left an ache she didn’t know what to do with. Miriam noticed her silence immediately. “Oh,” she said quietly.
Hannah looked away. “I can’t…” She struggled briefly for the right words. “I spent so long making sure the farm survived. Making sure you and Lydia were cared for.” Her voice softened further. “I don’t even know how to think about something beyond that anymore.”
Miriam’s expression gentled completely then. “You know Mamm and Daed would’ve wanted more for you than surviving.”
The words hit painfully close to the thoughts Daniel himself had spoken beneath the maple tree days earlier. Hannah swallowed hard.
“It feels selfish somehow.”
“Hannah.” Miriam stood before crossing the kitchen toward her. Her voice grew softer. “If the Lord chooses to place something good in your path, you don’t have to run from it.”
Emotion tightened unexpectedly in Hannah’s throat. Because she had spent so long convincing herself that duty came before everything else, wanting something for herself now felt almost frightening.
And Daniel… Daniel made her want things she had stopped allowing herself to dream about years ago.
A home filled with laughter. A husband beside her at the supper table. Children running through the fields outside. Things she had quietly buried alongside grief and responsibility.
Miriam squeezed her arm gently.
“You deserve happiness too, Hannah.”
Before Hannah could respond, voices drifted toward the house from outside, followed by the sound of wagon wheels approaching the barn. Daniel and Lydia were back from town. And immediately Hannah felt her pulse betray her.
Miriam noticed that too; her grin returned instantly.
“You can try to deny it, but I have eyes.”