Read A Baby for Hannah for Free Online

his truck. “The Mr. and the Mrs. making homemade ice cream?”
    “Butter pecan at that,” Jake said, pausing in his twirling. “I was taking my first turn.”
    “Then let me take my turn,” Mr. Brunson said. “Since I will no doubt be eating a large portion of this.”
    “Just leave plenty for me too!” Jake said with a laugh.
    “Good evening, Hannah,” Mr. Brunson said.
    “Good evening,” Hannah said. “I’m so glad you could come.”
    “I think I’m the one who will be glad,” Mr. Brunson said, rubbing his stomach. “I still have pleasant memories from my last visit.”
    “We’ll need to have you down more often,” Jake said. “I’m glad Hannah thought of inviting you.”
    “Leave it to a woman’s touch,” Mr. Brunson said. “I had a wonderful wife myself once. But we will not go there tonight on such a joyous occasion as supper at the Byler house. I sure hope you didn’t work yourself too hard, Hannah.”
    “I didn’t at all,” Hannah said. “And you have been such a help to Jake with his furniture business, we can never properly repay you.”
    “Oh, but Jake already has,” Mr. Brunson said. “He has made me quite a lot of money, so you shouldn’t feel bad at all.”
    “Then supper will be for our friendship’s sake,” Hannah said.
    “Fine with me,” he said, pulling down on the bill of his John Deere cap. “Now what can I do to help? I’ve never made homemade ice cream before.”
    “Hold the freezer so it doesn’t tip while I crank,” Jake said. After a few minutes he paused to add more ice and rock salt. “Things are starting to move along. It’s turning harder.”
    “I’m going back to the house,” Hannah said as Mr. Brunson placed both hands on the crank.
    Hannah turned the corner of the house, catching her last glimpse of the two men. Jake was saying something and laughing heartily as Mr. Brunson took a turn cranking the handle. In the kitchen she quickly cleaned off the table and set it.
    Then she attended to the last of the supper preparations. Opening the oven, Hannah tested the chicken. Satisfied, she closed the damper on the woodstove, and transferred the chicken to hot pads on the table. Retrieving more hot pads from the drawer, she did the same with the mashed potatoes and gravy.
    After slicing the bread and setting out the butter and jam, she removed the cover on the bowl of salad and transferred it to the table. The green beans still were on the back of the stove—in a warm spot—since there wasn’t room left on the table. She had an extra table leaf in storage in the bedroom closet. The problem was the kitchen was too small for its use. Even when her parents had been here last year, they had made do with the way things were. Maybe Jake was right in saying they needed a larger home.
    Walking outside, she called around the corner of the house, “Supper’s ready anytime.”
    “Almost done,” Jake said, looking up, his face intent as he strained to turn the handle.
    “How do you know when it’s done?” Mr. Brunson asked.
    “When you can’t turn anymore.” Jake groaned, stopping his efforts. “I think we just arrived at that point.” He picked up the icy freezer and headed for the kitchen, “Mr. Brunson, maybe you could get the door for me.”
    The older man squeezed around Jake and swung open the door as Jake hurried through. Jake slid the freezer onto the kitchen counter and sighed. “Heavier than I thought it would be.”
    “The food’s hot, so we should eat,” Hannah said.
    “Have a seat,” Jake said to their guest, waving toward a chair. “I declare Hannah has worked me harder since I got home than I did at the shop.”
    “But it’s worth it,” Hannah said. “You’ll think so too when you taste the ice cream.”
    “I think so already,” Mr. Brunson said. “Look at all the food you’ve made. Mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, fried chicken, salad—and that doesn’t even cover the dessert. You really shouldn’t have,