Free Hannah's Joy by Marta Perry Page B

like it’s from Jamie’s grandfather.”
    Hannah held it for a moment, studying the return address. Arizona, where Robert Conroy had settled after retiring from the army. He wrote so seldom that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen his handwriting.
    “I should leave you alone . . .” Aunt Paula made a movement toward the door.
    “No, it’s all right. Stay.” She stared at the envelope, reluctant to move.
    “Aren’t you going to open it?” Aunt Paula prompted her.
    Hannah blew out a breath. “Yes, of course.” Somehow the return address seemed to bring Conroy’s stiff, frowning presence into the room. They’d met only twice . . . once when Travis took her to visit after they were married and again at the funeral. Robert hadn’t seemed especially approving of her on either occasion.
    She ripped open the envelope and unfolded the single sheet she found inside. The note was brief.
     
    I thought you’d want a copy of this. I heard you hadn’t been back to the cemetery.
     
    His name was signed in angular black letters that seemed vaguely angry.
    She picked up the photo, knowing what it must be and reluctant to see it. She handed the letter to her aunt.
    “It’s not much of a letter, that’s for sure.” Aunt Paula sounded miffed, as if the rudeness had been directed at her. “What does he mean?”
    Hannah turned over the photo. Smooth, even green grass carpeted the ground, dotted with straight rows of white crosses. She could read the lettering on the one nearest to the camera.
    The photo wavered in her fingers, and she thrust it at her aunt.
    “It’s where Travis is buried.” She tried to sound calm, tried to sound like a mature woman who’d dealt with loss and could cope with being left behind.
    But inside she knew it wasn’t true, and the pep talk she’d been giving herself was a mocking echo in her mind.
    *   *   *
    He shouldn’t have come. William turned to the bakery door, the words repeating themselves in his mind. This was a mistake. Someone would see him, would start to talk.
    And they’d remember. Sometimes he thought no one in Pleasant Valley ever forgot anything.
    The bell jingled as he opened the door, the familiar sound calming him. After all, what was so unusual in his coming here? He came to the bakery most days, enjoying the welcoming aromas and the sight of the loaves filling wire baskets. No one would think anything of his being there.
    The tables were empty at this hour, and no customers lined up in front of the counter. Naomi Esch smiled at him from behind the glass-fronted case that held pastries. “Hannah is back in the kitchen.” She nodded toward the swinging door. “Go on in.”
    Naomi probably knew why he was here, but her face didn’t hold any open curiosity. Naomi was a sensible woman, not a blabbermaul like some.
    He moved between the tables, pushed open the swinging door, and stepped into the kitchen. And stopped. Paula stood close to Hannah, her arm around the younger woman. Hannah held a paper crumpled in her hand, and her brown eyes were bright with tears.
    “Th-this is a b-bad time. I’ll g-go.” He turned toward the door, relief mixing with pity. Hannah was having trouble, and it seemed as good a reason as any for him to back away from this commitment.
    “No, don’t.” Hannah said the words before he could push the door open. “I’m all right. Please, sit down.”
    He hesitated, but Paula nodded at him.
    “That’s right, William. Chust sit now. I’ll leave you two alone.” She patted Hannah’s hand and went quickly back into the bakery.
    “You d-don’t w-w-want me here—” he began.
    “Sit down.” Hannah almost snapped the words and then gave him a watery smile. “I’m sorry, William. I am upset, but I’d rather work. It will take my mind off things. Coffee? Iced tea?”
    He didn’t want anything, but he suspected fixing it would give her a moment to calm herself.
    “Ja, tea would be gut.”
    Hannah turned to the