A Widow's Hope. Vannetta Chapman
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“Maybe.”
She nearly laughed. Her mother’s optimism grated on her nerves at times, but Hannah appreciated and loved her more than she could ever say. Mamm had been her port in the storm. Or perhaps Gotte had been, and Mamm had simply nudged her in the correct direction.
“You have to admit he’s easy on the eyes.”
“Is that how you older women describe a handsome man?”
“So you think he’s gut-looking?”
“That’s not what I said, Mamm.”
Claire tied off her thread, popped it through the back of the quilt and then rethreaded her needle. “Tell me about this first date you two had, because I can hardly remember it.”
“Small wonder. I was only sixteen.”
“Ya? Already out of school, then.”
“I was. In fact, I was working at the deli counter in town.”
“I remember that job. You always brought home the leftover sandwiches.”
“Jacob and I attended the same school, in the old district when we lived on Jackspur Lane. He’s two years older than me.”
“I’m surprised I don’t remember your stepping out with him.”
“Our house was quite busy then.” Hannah was the youngest of three girls. She’d always expected her life to follow their fairy-tale existence. “Beth had just announced her plans to marry Carl, and Sharon was working with the midwife.”
“I do remember that summer. I thought things would get easier when you three were out of school, but suddenly I had trouble keeping up with everyone.”
“The date with Jacob, it was only my second or third, and I was still expecting something like I read in the romance books.”
Her mother tsked.
“They were Christian romance, Mamm.”
“I’m guessing your date with Jacob didn’t match with what you’d been reading.”
“Hardly. First of all, he showed up with mud splattered all over the buggy, and the inside of it was filled with pieces of hay and fast-food wrappers and even a pair of dirty socks.”
“Didn’t he have older brothers?”
“He had one.”
“So I guess they shared the buggy.”
Hannah shrugged. “We’d barely made it a quarter mile down the road when we both noticed his horse was limping.”
“Oh my.”
“It was no big thing. He jumped out of the buggy and began to clean out her hooves with a pick.”
“While you waited.”
“At first. Then I decided to help, which he told me in no short fashion not to do.”
“There are times when it’s hard for a man, especially a young man, to accept a woman’s help.”
“I waited about ten minutes and finally said I was heading home.”
“Changed your mind before you were even out of sight of the house.”
“Maybe. What I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to stand on the side of the road while Jacob Schrock took care of his horse—something he should have done before picking me up.”
“Could have been his brother’s doing.”
“I suppose.”
“I hope you didn’t judge him harshly because of a dirty buggy and a lame horse.”
“Actually, I don’t think I judged him at all. I simply realized that I didn’t want to spend the evening with him.”
“Well, he seems to have turned into a fine young man.”
Hannah refolded the newspaper and pointed her highlighter at her mother. “Tell me you are not matchmaking.”
“Why would I do such a thing?”
“Exactly.”
“Though I did help both of your sisters find their husbands.”
“I need a job, Mamm. I don’t need a husband. I have a son, I have a family and I have a home. I’m fine without Jacob Schrock or any other man.” Before her mother could see how rattled she was, Hannah jumped up, stepped over to the window and stared out at Jacob and Matthew.
“At least you parted friends...or so it seems.”
Hannah suddenly remembered Jacob kissing her behind the swing set at school. It had been her first kiss, and a bit of a mess. He’d leaned in, a bee had buzzed past her and she’d darted to the right at the last minute. The result was a kiss on the left side of her kapp. She’d been mortified, though Jacob had laughed good-naturedly, then reached for her hand and walked her back into the school building. It was three years later when he’d asked her out on the buggy ride.
Remembering the kiss, Hannah felt the heat crawl up her neck. Before her mother could interrogate her further, she busied herself pulling two glasses from the cabinet and said, “Perhaps I should take both of the workers something to drink.”
She filled the glasses with lemonade, snagged half a dozen of her mother’s oatmeal cookies, put it all on a tray and carried it outside.
After setting it down on the picnic table under the tall maple tree, she turned to watch Jacob and Matthew. In spite of her resolution to maintain a safe distance from Jacob Schrock, her heart tripped a beat at the sight of him.
Which made no sense, because Jacob Schrock was not her type.
He was eight inches taller than she was, whereas David had been her height exactly.
He was blond. David had been dark haired.
His eyes were blue, and David’s had been a lovely brown.
Nothing about the man standing near her son appealed to her, least of all the suggestion that he knew what was good for Matthew.
She couldn’t help noticing, though...
The sleeves of his blue shirt were rolled up past the elbow, revealing his muscular, tanned arms.
Sweat gleamed on his forehead and caused his blond hair to curl slightly.
As she watched, he handed one end of a tape measure to Matthew, stepped off what was apparently the length of the project and pushed a stake into the ground.
When he was done, Jacob glanced