Daniel watched the flurry of emotions sweep across Hannah’s face. Frustration. Uncertainty. Regret. Pain. He’d seen the last when she’d found him flirting with other girls. The memory of that evening had lurked in his thoughts for three years, a constant reminder that if he let someone else come as close to his heart as she had, he could wound that person as badly. Better to keep things light and laugh with every girl instead of making a marvelous one like Hannah cry. He wasn’t going to take a chance of that happening again. He’d learned his lesson the hardest possible way.
He wouldn’t have come to the stone-end farmhouse where she lived with her great-grandmother and her bees if he’d had another choice. But he needed to ask for a favor. A big one, and he wasn’t sure if Hannah would agree when they hadn’t spoken in three years.
He should look away from her pretty face, but he couldn’t. How was it possible that Hannah had become even more beautiful? He hadn’t seen her since that evening she’d walked out of his life. His older brother Amos had occasionally mentioned Hannah bringing honey from her hives to sell at his grocery store. Each time, Daniel had changed the subject. He didn’t want to think about how he’d ruined everything between him and Hannah.
In the rainy day’s dim light, her hair was the shade of her honey. Drawn under a green bandana that matched her dress, her hair framed her oval face. Her chocolate-brown eyes displayed her feelings. She’d never been able to hide her thoughts. Now she was upset because the kind refused to go to her.
“It’s okay, Shelby,” he said in Englisch because he suspected she didn’t understand Deitsch, the language the Amish spoke. “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.”
The kind tilted her head; then she gave him a big grin, showing off tiny teeth. Her eyes crinkled closed, and he saw the striking resemblance between the little girl and Hannah. The shape of their faces, those dark eyes and the shiny, honey-gold hair were almost identical.
“Is your great-grandmother here?” he asked.
“She’s taking a nap.” Hannah continued to stare at Shelby with distress.
“With all this noise?”
“Grossmammi Ella takes a nap every day from one until two-thirty. Even if she’s awake, she won’t come out until two-thirty.” Her lips quirked. “No matter what.”
“That’s weird.”
“It’s her way.”
His nose wrinkled. “Someone could use a diaper change.” He ran a finger along the kind’s tiny arm. “And she’s cold. What she needs is a gut, warm bath.”
“She won’t let me give her one.” Again the dismay filled her voice.
“I’ll help.” He hesitated, then said, “If you’ll let me.”
She glanced toward the front door. As clearly as if she’d shouted, he knew she wanted him to leave.
“This isn’t about what happened to us, Hannah. It’s about what’s happened to your little sister.”
Her face blanched, but she squared her shoulders. He recognized the motion. Whenever Hannah set her shoulders, she was ready to take on a disagreeable task. He’d prefer not to think she saw him as that.
“The bathroom is this way.” She gathered the scattered clothes and bags before leading him into the simple kitchen. She opened the door next to the woodstove and motioned for him to enter.
He couldn’t ignore how Shelby tightened her arms around him when he passed Hannah. He wanted to tell the kind she was making a big mistake. Hannah would do anything for anyone. Everybody knew they could depend on her.
He, on the other hand... He frowned. Trying to explain to Hannah why he’d done what he did would be a waste of breath. He’d failed her three years ago, and he doubted he’d do better now. He couldn’t find the words to tell her how important it was for him to own a business as his older brothers did. He couldn’t admit how scared and worried he’d been to try to handle the challenges of that along with a wife and family. He’d wanted to be honest, but how could he tell the most dependable person he knew he wasn’t sure she could depend on him? And then he’d proved that by flirting with someone else. He couldn’t remember which girl it’d been.
Pushing aside self-recriminations, he carried Shelby into the bathroom as Hannah put the clothes on a counter by the sink. It was a small room. The big bathtub must have been installed for Hannah’s grossmammi. The tub had a door in the side and held a chair where someone could sit while bathing. Hannah made sure the door was locked and lifted out the chair. She shoved it as far toward the window as she could. After turning on the faucet and testing the water to make sure it was neither too hot nor too cold, she faced him.
“Will she let me take her?” she asked.
“Let me get her started, and we’ll see how she does. Can you get a towel and washcloth while I put her into the tub?”
“Ja. They’re right behind you. I’ll get—”
He put out an arm to halt her from reaching past him. When her hand touched his arm, she flinched as if he were connected to an electric circuit and she’d gotten zapped.
Pulling down a towel, she shoved it into his hand. “Why are you here?”
He set the little girl on the floor and knelt to unhook the straps on her overalls. That gave him an excuse not to look at Hannah while he asked for her help. Shelby wiggled as he drew off her wet clothes. Once she was undressed and her braids undone, he rinsed off her bottom before placing her in the tub. She slapped the water and giggled when it flew everywhere, including the front of his shirt.
Taking a washcloth and soap from Hannah, he began washing the kind’s face and arms. He kept one hand on Shelby’s shoulder as he said, “I’ve been hired to strengthen the Hunter’s Mill Creek Bridge so it can be used for heavier traffic again, and I need your help.”
“I’m not much gut with a hammer.”
Was she jesting? He didn’t dare take his eyes off the little girl to see. Deciding it’d be better not to respond to her comment, he said, “I can’t begin work until something is done about the beehive in a rotting board beneath the bridge.”
“Bees? What kind?” Excitement sifted into her voice.
“I think they’re honeybees.”
“You’re not sure?”
He risked a quick glance at Hannah who sat on the chair she’d taken from the tub. She watched how he cleaned the toddler. “You’re the expert. Not me. I can’t tell one kind of bee from another. They need to be moved so nobody gets stung while we’re working on the bridge. I considered spraying them, but I’ve heard there aren’t as many honeybees as there used to be.”
“Ja, that’s true. Pesticides and pests have killed them.”
“That’s why I decided to check with an expert—with you—before I contacted an exterminator.” He cupped his hand and poured warm water over Shelby’s head, wetting it so he could wash her hair. He kept his other hand above her eyes to prevent water from flowing into them.
“Danki for checking, Daniel. Many people don’t. They spray the hive, never stopping to think we need honeybees to pollinate our crops.” She held out a bottle of shampoo. “You’re gut with her.”
“Practice. My sister Esther was a lot younger than the rest of us, and I used to help Mamm. And I’ve got a bunch of nieces and nephews.” He edged back. “Do you want to put the shampoo on her hair?”
“Do you think she’ll let me?”
“One way to know.” Keeping his right hand on Shelby’s arm, he stepped aside.
Hannah eased past him, making sure not an inch of her brushed against him, not even the hem of her apron or kapp strings. She bent over the tub and