Hannah's Joy by Marta Perry

She was about to remind her that she couldn’t sew, but Myra was already introducing her.
    “Here is my sister-in-law, another Anna, and our friend Rachel. This is Hannah, Paula’s niece. I thought she could dress the dolls for us.”
    Well, that she could do. She slipped into a chair, nodding at the other women’s greetings and wondering if she was the only person confused by the remarkable similarity among Amish women.
    It wasn’t just that they were dressed alike, although brown-haired Rachel wore a burgundy dress and apron while Anna, with flaxen hair, wore blue, which matched her eyes. Their manner was very similar, a sort of calm acceptance that seemed to say they knew who they were and where they belonged.
    “We have a bunch ready to be dressed, so I hope you really want to do this.” Anna smiled, nodding toward a stack of dolls. She had a quick smile and an air of assurance that contrasted with her sister-in-law’s shy, gentle expression. “Has Rhoda taken over your little boy already?” She reached out to pat the infant sleeping in a buggy next to her.
    “She has.” Hannah glanced toward the corner, but everyone seemed to be playing happily. “I hope he won’t cause any problems. He hasn’t had much opportunity to play with other children his age.”
    “He’ll be fine,” Rachel assured her. “And if he does fuss, it’s not as if we haven’t all heard it before.”
    The other women smiled, and Hannah recognized the instant fraternity of young mothers. She’d known that before, on the base, where other young mothers were the ones who really understood.
    She picked up one of the soft, faceless rag dolls and began to put on the tiny Amish dress. “I imagine these will sell well.”
    “For sure they will,” Rachel said. “If only we have a warm day for the auction, so we get a crowd.”
    “We can’t help being excited. It’s our big event of the fall.” Anna stitched yarn into place for a doll’s hair. “Once winter comes, things get quiet here in Pleasant Valley.”
    Was there an implication that Hannah might find it boring? If they imagined she’d led an exciting life before she came here, they couldn’t be more wrong.
    “That sounds fine to me. I’m too busy for much outside activity anyway.”
    “It can’t be easy, raising a small child without a husband’s help.” Myra’s voice was soft, her brown eyes sympathetic.
    “Especially out there.” Anna gave a jerk of the head that seemed to indicate the English world. “I know, you see. I lived there for three years, and it was a struggle to take care of myself and my little Gracie.” She hesitated, her gaze on Hannah’s face. “I wanted you to know, in case you need someone who understands.”
    The lump in Hannah’s throat made it difficult to answer. Anna had just handed her a gift, it seemed, and she didn’t even know her.
    “Thank you,” she murmured. “I appreciate that.”
    The others resumed work, talking or falling silent with the easy familiarity of people who knew one another well. The apprehension Hannah had felt at fitting in had disappeared, almost without her noticing. This was like one of the wives groups on the base—women concentrating on a task while talking about teething and potty training and the best treatment for colic.
    She glanced across the room to the quilting frames, where Aunt Paula was seated. Paula looked up at the same time, and their gazes met. Hannah smiled. Aunt Paula had been right. Despite Hannah’s lack of skill, she’d found something worthwhile here.
    “William tells me you are helping him with his speech.” Rachel finished the seam she was stitching and reached for another doll. “I’m so glad.”
    “Yes, I . . .”
    Hannah stopped, unable to come up with the rest of a casual response.
Rachel.
She hadn’t realized. This was the woman Katie had told her about, the older sister-in-law William had fallen in love with. Apparently Rachel was still close to William.
    Maybe it