Free Hannah's Joy by Marta Perry Page A

Hannah.”
    “I hope so.” She pressed her hand against her midsection, where a troupe of butterflies seemed to be fluttering. “I’m as nervous as if I were facing a final exam.”
    “You’ll do fine.” Aunt Paula wiped her hands on her apron and then patted her shoulder. “Have faith.”
    “I’m trying,” she said. “Is it okay if we work upstairs?”
    The instant she said the words her aunt’s lips tightened, and she knew she’d made a misstep.
    “That would not be suitable.” Aunt Paula gestured toward the round tables. “Why can’t you work here?”
    Paula’s house, Paula’s rules, Hannah reminded herself. Something that would seem perfectly harmless in the outside world wasn’t proper in Paula’s view.
    “I don’t think William would be comfortable working with me where anyone looking in the windows might see. If he doesn’t relax and feel at ease, we won’t get anywhere.”
    Aunt Paula looked ready to argue the point, but Naomi intervened.
    “What about the bakery kitchen?” she asked. “We won’t have to go back there this time of day, so you and William can work in peace.”
    Hannah looked at her aunt. Was their disagreement over Megan’s visit going to color everything she wanted to do?
    “Ja, that sounds fine.” Aunt Paula’s expression eased. “Naomi is right.”
    Hannah shot Naomi a look of thanks. “Great. I’ll go and set up.” She glanced at the clock. “William should be here in about fifteen minutes. Jamie went down for his nap a little faster than I thought he might.”
    Naomi smiled. “He tired himself out this morning, I think.”
    Naomi had brought Jamie a small wooden wagon this morning, one she said her brothers had played with when they were small. Jamie had been entranced, filling it up with blocks, wheeling it around, tipping them out, and then doing it all over again.
    “He loves the wagon, all right. That was so kind of you, Naomi.” She’d learned that complimenting an Amish person was a tricky thing to do, since they didn’t want to appear prideful about something they’d done.
    Naomi smiled, ducking her head a little in that typically Amish gesture that might mean almost anything.
    William did that, as well, Hannah realized, and the words he’d said yesterday seemed to echo in her mind again. He was struggling his way toward some form of independence.
    Still holding the notebook, she walked into the bakery kitchen, which was still warm from the heat of the large ovens. They could sit at the table—a homey, familiar situation, with the comforting aroma of bread-baking still filling the air.
    She set the chairs at right angles to each other. The little she’d learned of William’s home life, the encounter with his brother Isaac, his stammer . . . those factors certainly suggested that making decisions for himself was a struggle for William.
    And what is your excuse?
A small voice in the back of her mind voiced what she knew was true. She had done her own share of drifting, of letting others make up her mind for her. Her parents, her teachers, Travis, Megan . . . even Aunt Paula, in a way.
    She glanced at the monitor on the counter, its light flickering a little when Jamie moved, rustling the sheets in his crib. She was the only one responsible for Jamie. She had to make decisions for both of them.
    Hannah moved restlessly, hands working on the back of the chair. What if she made the wrong decision, the way she had when she’d hired that babysitter? What if she let her son down again?
    Travis had been her rock. Now he was gone, and she had been left to go on alone.
    Her throat tightened, and she shook her head, impatient with herself. Now was not the time to dwell on her doubts. She had a job to do.
    The swinging door moved, and her nerves jumped. It was time—
    But it was Aunt Paula, holding a handful of envelopes. The postman must have just come.
    Her aunt held out one envelope, her expression clouded. “This just came. For you. It looks