Chapter 13
The Dangers of Hope
The market had begun quieting by the time the last baskets of produce were loaded onto the wagon.
Vendors folded awnings while wagon wheels creaked steadily along the road leading out of town.
The scent of fresh bread and roasted nuts still lingered faintly in the warm evening air as Englisch families drifted between the remaining stalls.
Daniel secured the final crate beside the wagon before glancing toward the bakery stand across the road. Lydia and Miriam stood near the ice-cream cart laughing about something while Lydia waved her cone dramatically enough to lose half of it.
Daniel smiled faintly before turning back toward Hannah. She was avoiding him again. She was trying not to be obvious, but it was obvious enough that he noticed.
Over the past two days, the easy comfort that had settled naturally between them after weeks of working side by side had shifted into something more careful.
Hannah stayed busier than necessary and kept finding reasons to be somewhere else whenever they were alone for too long.
And after the moment beside the pasture fence yesterday, Daniel suspected he knew exactly why.
Hannah tied another sack closed with far more force than required.
“That one’s empty,” Daniel pointed out gently.
Her hands stilled immediately.
“Ach.” She looked down at the flattened sack before setting it aside. “I didn’t realize.” Daniel leaned one arm against the wagon, studying her quietly.
“You’re avoiding me.”
Color touched her cheeks instantly, though she kept her attention fixed stubbornly on rearranging baskets that no longer needed rearranging. “I’ve been busy.”
“Hannah.” The softness in his voice finally made her glance toward him.
For one brief moment he saw it clearly again, the fear of what existed between them now.
The realization tugged painfully at his chest.
The noise of the market faded gradually around them as evening settled lower across town. Somewhere nearby, a horse snorted impatiently while vendors called final goodbyes to one another.
Still Hannah remained quiet.
Daniel stepped closer carefully, keeping his voice low. “Did I do something wrong?”
Her gaze lifted quickly then. “Nee.” The answer came immediately. “Nee, Daniel, it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
Hannah opened her mouth before closing it again. Daniel waited.
Eventually she sighed softly, exhaustion flickering briefly across her face.
“I don’t know what’s happening anymore.” The honesty in her voice unsettled him more than anger would have.
“You know what’s happening,” he said quietly.
Hannah looked away immediately. That was answer enough. Daniel rubbed a hand across the back of his neck slowly before speaking again.
“I’m not sorry for caring about you, Hannah.”
Her breath caught softly at the words. Neither of them had said it aloud before, but now it lingered unmistakably between them. Hannah wrapped her arms around herself lightly as though suddenly cold despite the warmth of the evening.
“That’s exactly what frightens me,” Hannah admitted, the honesty almost breaking her voice.
Daniel frowned slightly. “Hannah—”
“You make things easy,” she interrupted quietly. “Too easy.”
Daniel frowned, wondering why it made him feel guilty – made her sound uneasy.
“You help before I ask. You carry burdens I stopped expecting anyone else to notice.” Her voice softened further. “And somewhere along the way I started relying on you without even realizing it.”
Daniel remained still beside the wagon. The vulnerability in her voice felt dangerously fragile. Hannah finally looked toward him again, and for the first time he saw no walls at all.
Only fear.
“When Mamm and Daed died…” She swallowed hard. “Everything changed overnight. One day I was simply Hannah and the next…” Her voice faltered slightly. “The next I was responsible for everything.”
Daniel listened quietly.
“I learned very quickly not to depend on anyone else too much.” A faint humorless smile touched her mouth. “It hurts less that way.”
Something inside him broke a little hearing that. Because no one should have had to learn to live like that so young.
“Hannah.” He stepped closer slowly. “You shouldn’t have had to carry all of that alone.”
“But I did.” Her eyes glistened faintly in the fading sunlight. “And I survived because I stopped expecting more.”
The words settled heavily between them. Daniel suddenly understood why hope frightened her so deeply. Because hope meant risk. Hope meant loving something enough to lose it. And after grief had already taken so much from Hannah Peachy, she no longer trusted herself to survive losing more.
Daniel lowered his voice gently.
“I’m not your parents.”
Immediately, regret crossed Hannah’s face.
“I know that.”
“And I’m not planning to disappear either.” The words escaped before he could reconsider them.
Hannah stared at him quietly. Daniel held her gaze steadily despite the way his pulse had begun hammering beneath his ribs.
“I know I came here looking for work,” he admitted softly. “But somewhere along the way this farm started feeling like home again.”
Emotion flickered across Hannah’s face so quickly he nearly missed it.
“And you,” Daniel continued carefully, “started mattering to me more than I expected.” Silence stretched between them, painfully honest.
Hannah’s eyes lowered briefly before she whispered, “That’s what scares me.”
Daniel understood. More than she realized. Slowly, carefully, he reached for one of the empty baskets beside her instead of reaching for her hand. She wasn’t ready, so he stopped, hoping she’d notice that too.
“I can’t promise life won’t hurt sometimes, but I will try and protect you, help carry your burdens… if you let me,” he said quietly while lifting the basket into the wagon.
The sincerity in his voice seemed to shake something loose inside her. For a long moment she looked at him. Then finally, softly, she nodded. Not agreement. Not surrender. But trust beginning carefully where fear had lived for far too long.
Across the road, Lydia suddenly shouted Miriam’s name loud enough to startle half the remaining customers.
The moment broke instantly. Hannah blinked quickly before looking away, though Daniel caught the faintest trace of warmth returning to her expression for the first time all afternoon. And somehow that felt like hope too.