“I’m sorry there’s no cake or something sweet,” she said as they sat at the table. “I guess we have to live on love.”
“One could live a long time on that,” he said, still grinning, “but this is plenty. Let’s pray before I starve.”
When he had finished and Hannah had pushed the casserole in his direction, Jake said, “Well, Mr. Wesley said logging jobs this winter might be hard to come by.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“He said that maybe we should best be looking for other jobs during the winter. If his work is cut back, so is mine,” Jake said with a catch in his voice.
Hannah gasped as Jake passed the casserole back. The smell stirred her hunger, forgotten for so long in the hurry of the day. Jake’s words didn’t take immediate effect, as if she heard them from a great distance. Then they soaked in slowly.
“But if you lose your job, what will we do?” she asked.
“I guess we must trust God,” Jake said without much confidence in his voice.
That’s just what Father would say, Hannah thought, yet it sounds so strange coming from such a young man. Is this how young married life is for all couples? Surely not! But how do we get through this?
“I guess we must,” she said with a question in her voice. Then she touched his arm and looked for some source of comfort in his eyes. They were as deep and wonderful as ever—and Hannah found her comfort. She wanted to climb inside and hide from the world in a place with Jake where all was safe and secure.
“Maybe I can find something else,” Jake was saying, “although it is a rough time to be looking for work.”
“Do you think it’s a bad sign?” Hannah asked.
“What?” he asked.
“Me—blowing up the kitchen today. And the grizzly. Are things going to be hard for us? And what about the baby?”
Jake’s face darkened momentarily, but then he collected himself. “There’s always a way out. Somewhere. Hasn’t God been good to us so far?” Jake gave her a thin smile. “You didn’t marry Sam, remember? We have each other and now a new life coming. Ours. God is good and will always be.”
“I didn’t know it would be like this, though.” Her voice was hushed. “Is it like this for everyone?”
“I don’t know.” He found her eyes. “I’ve not been here before, but God will take care of us. We have to know that.”
She saw his tenderness and let her own face soften. “I guess you’re right. I’m just afraid sometimes.”
“I think everyone is,” he assured her.
That night in bed, with the moon shining in through the window, they awakened once again to the sounds of the grizzly outside.
“Just let it be,” Jake whispered in the darkness. “Maybe the game warden will do something about this now.”
Hannah said nothing, but she found and held Jake’s hand until it was quiet outside.
Six
The next morning Hannah saw Jake off as usual before the sun was up. She watched him walk to the blacktop road for his ride. At breakfast she had again voiced her thought that if Jake were to lose his job, they should consider a move back East.
“No,” Jake said, “not yet anyway. We shouldn’t make any fast decisions.” After a moment he asked, “Hannah, this isn’t about that bear, is it?”
“Maybe. Partly. But your job too.”
Gently but firmly Jake took charge of her fears, “It’ll be okay with the bear. Mr. Brunson will likely go to the game warden especially because it came back. If not, maybe I can run down and report the matter myself.”
Hannah thought their problem was more complicated than that and sighed. The bear’s appearance might have marked the start of their troubles—or so it seemed to her—but matters now looked bigger than just the bear.
True to Jake’s hope, Mr. Brunson drove his truck up the driveway and parked it in front of the house just as the sun rose. The first rays of light flooded across the yard. To save Mr. Brunson the walk to the house, Hannah went out to meet him in the yard. He saw her approach, waved, and waited in his truck.
“Nice of you to come out,” he said when she was within earshot. “Old bones hurt in the morning.”
“Jake was hoping you would stop by,” she said.
“Bear back?” he guessed.
Hannah nodded. “We heard it again. I don’t know what it’s after, though. Nothing is missing this morning. Jake was hoping you could tell the game warden about it. Maybe today? I don’t think I like a bear wandering around.”
“That’s where I’m going now,” Mr. Brunson said, his tone emphatic. “I took a picture of the eaten hog—or his remains, anyway—to prove the matter. I’m going right into town and see what can be done. Maybe we can get some action tonight. If not—” Mr. Brunson’s face darkened again, and then he smiled when he saw Hannah watching him intently. “No, I suppose not. I better not shoot the thing myself. The law’s kind of hard about such things.”
“Don’t be giving Jake any ideas,” Hannah said. She could just see Jake standing in the cold night air, aiming his hunting rifle into the darkness while the enraged bear grabbed for him.
“We wouldn’t want to do that,” Mr. Brunson assured her. “There’s a considerable fine associated with the penalty.”
“That we couldn’t afford,” she said with certainty. “This bear could be quite a problem, it seems.”
“That’s what the law is for in this country—one would hope,” Mr. Brunson said, his face grim. “Let me see what I can get done today. I’ll try to stop by after Jake gets home. I might be able to give you both some good news.”
After Mr. Brunson left, Hannah wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. From what he said, the game warden would soon do something about the bear, and that would eliminate one of her reasons for moving back East. She was surprised at the twinge of joy she felt. Apparently she didn’t want to move as intensely as she had thought. And it was true—a move back to Indiana would uproot their lives here, which had just begun to take firm hold.
And Jake so wanted to stay here. If that was what Jake wanted, then she had better support him, whatever her own inclinations might be.
“So, sweet Montana, be my sunshine,” she said out loud to the heavens, glancing up at the last redness of the sunrise before she walked back into the house. Hannah smiled at her own words and then hummed them with a tune of her own, thankful no one else was around. It was enough that she enjoyed the little tune herself. “Sweet Montana, come on now. Take your bears away. Back to the mountains they must go, so we can stay. Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s what I say.”
Back in the kitchen, Betty’s pressure cooker still sat on the back corner of the counter, where she had left it after yesterday’s corn canning. Hannah eyed the cooker warily, her nerves still raw, the memories still vivid. Should I or should I not take on the tomatoes today?
Jake hadn’t said anything about the weather, which he usually did if a major rain was moving in. He liked to pass on the reports his boss gave him. Perhaps he’s distracted, Hannah thought. I’ve given him plenty to be distracted about by sharing the news of the baby and blowing up the kitchen. She winced at the thought.
Hannah went back outside and took another look at the tomatoes. Judging the coming weather by the color of the sunrise, she decided they had to be done today, whatever her feelings about the cooker. Her mom had often moved up their scheduled wash day in response to a red sunrise. And this sunrise certainly qualified as red.
Hannah got her bowls from the pantry and headed for the garden. She soon abandoned her effort to calculate how much she needed for two batches of tomato juice and simply picked what was there. The ripe tomatoes were going to be wasted if she didn’t.
Halfway down the row, the tomatoes suddenly ceased. Puzzled, she moved on and found a tomato here and there but not nearly as many as there should be. Her suspicions roused, she found evidence in the moistened ground right there where she stood—bear prints with the distinct cla
w marks in front and wider indentations on the sides and back.
A shiver ran up Hannah’s back. The bear had been right here! Its huge furry body had lumbered down this row of tomatoes, sampling them as it went.
She gathered courage to check further down the row, all the time wondering if the bear was still around. The protection of the log cabin seemed far away. She held panic at bay, though, figuring grizzlies had enough sense not to come out in the daylight.
The tomatoes reappeared a few plants down, and Hannah finished filling the bowl. She decided she had enough to can and returned to the front yard, where she set up the strainer and began to work.
It was a messy job. The tomato juice splashed on her apron no matter how carefully she worked. Still, she continued to mash the tomatoes through the strainer, adding salt from memory to the mixture.
When the jars were filled, she carefully set them in the cooker. She tightened the lid and slid the cooker onto the hot part of the stove. With skepticism she eyed the gauge, which seemed to be working, and then stepped out of the kitchen while the cooker heated up. Glancing in every few minutes, she watched the pressure rise to eleven pounds. She then quickly slid the cooker off the hot area.
For the next fifteen minutes, she made quick trips back and forth between the kitchen door and the stove, rushing in and out to make sure the pressure stayed at eleven pounds. Finally, with a deep sigh of relief, she moved the cooker completely off the heat. The point of danger over, Hannah stayed in the kitchen. When the pressure had gone down completely, she undid the top with a gentle pop, and a small cloud of steam rose.
While the cans cooled on the kitchen table, she repeated the process and still had tomatoes left. Hannah wanted to quit now but decided instead to press on. She figured Jake would understand if they had only leftover casserole for supper.
When he got home, Jake found her happy with her accomplishments. Rows of red tomato juice jars lined the kitchen counter behind her. Every so often a jar lid would pop softly as it sealed. Soon the whole batch would be sealed and ready to store.
“Our winter stash,” she told Jake as she let her joy wash away her weariness.
“You must have canned all day,” he said, obviously impressed. “Why didn’t you take a break from yesterday?”
“I think it might rain tomorrow. I didn’t want to be searching for wet tomatoes in the mud.”
“It will rain,” Jake said, surprised. “The boss said so. But how did you know?”
“The sunrise was red.”
“I guess it was,” he said. “I didn’t notice. We’re not even going to work tomorrow. That’s how certain Mr. Wesley is.”
“So what will you do tomorrow, then?”
“Maybe I can talk to the game warden about the bear.”
“Good news.” Hannah gave him a smile and a quick kiss. “Mr. Brunson stopped by this morning. He was going to talk to the warden today. He took a picture of what the bear did to his hog and wanted to show it to the warden.”
“That is good news,” Jake said as he sat down at the kitchen table. Knowing he’d want supper soon, she gave him another kiss, pulled the wrapper off the leftover casserole, and then opened the oven door.
“Hope you’re happy with leftovers.”
“That’s fine,” he said, grinning. “A man could almost live on kisses. Did Mr. Brunson say if he’d let us know what he found out?”
“He said he’d stop by when you were home if he had news.”
“Hopefully it’s good news. Guess I’ll wash up,” Jake said and disappeared in the direction of their small bathroom, its water flow, like that of the kitchen, fed by the pressure from the spring.
Moments later Hannah heard Jake pump air into the gas lantern they used for evening light. To keep expenses down, they used gas only in the evening and only in the living room. The kerosene lamps were used otherwise. That had been Hannah’s idea, but she doubted whether it actually saved that much.
Jake never complained, though. He seemed to like the routine. He came in and hung the lantern on the center ceiling nail of the living room before he sat down to read. In the kitchen, Hannah continued to set the table by the light of the kerosene lamp.
Minutes later she called out, “It’s ready,” and Jake came quickly to the table.
The weariness of the day swept over her again as they bowed their heads to pray.
After supper Mr. Brunson stopped in as promised.
“The game warden said he’d come by tomorrow,” he reported. “I don’t know what he’ll do, but he looked at my pictures.”
“Hopefully something will be done then,” Jake said. “I’ll be home tomorrow. So maybe that will help—if the game warden comes.”
“He’d better, but who knows. Goodnight, then,” Mr. Brunson said and turned to leave.
That night the noises from the bear outside were even more pronounced. Perhaps it was emboldened by the rain that fiercely drenched the log walls of the cabin.
Hannah lay in bed unable to ignore the troubling sounds until Jake finally got up and yelled out the front door.
“That should do it,” Jake said, his voice weary as he climbed back into bed.
Apparently it did because for the rest of the night they heard nothing but silence.
Seven
The rain was still coming down when Hannah and Jake awoke the next morning. Because Jake had planned to stay home, the alarm had not been set. Unable to sleep in and after a few tosses and turns, Jake said, “I can’t sleep.” He propped himself up on his elbows, briefly looked around the dark room, and then got out of bed and dressed.
“Me neither,” Hannah agreed but made no move to get up.
Jake left the room, and in a few moments, Hannah heard Jake light the gas lantern and the hiss of the lantern in the living room.
With a groan, Hannah halfheartedly got out of bed. Jake would be hungry and anxious for breakfast.
As she walked into the living room from the dark bedroom, Hannah squinted, unable to focus for a minute. The day was gloomy. There was no doubt about that. But with Jake home, perhaps the house would stay more cheerful. Some days Hannah felt lonely after spending all day alone in the house, but soon the little one would be here. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and smiled at Jake, who was sitting on the couch.
“Will we have breakfast soon?” Jake asked hopefully.
“Yes,” she said, squinting again from the bright light. “Do you want anything different since you’re home?”
“No,” he said, his nose in a magazine, “just the usual.”
Hannah didn’t know if all men were as unimaginative as Jake when it came to food, but she decided a rainy morning called for something special. If nothing else, it would serve to cheer herself a little.
“I’ll make some bacon,” she said, remembering the special breakfasts her mother prepared at home. Jake glanced up and nodded but went on reading.
“Will you bring some bacon in from the springhouse?” she asked.
“Sure,” Jake said and then hesitated, seeing the rain outside. “You really think we need to have bacon?”
“Yes,” Hannah said. Then she stopped by the kitchen opening as the thought occurred to her for the first time. “Jake, what if the bear got into the springhouse? Maybe that’s what it’s after.”
“It’s likely,” Jake allowed. He then set aside his magazine and took his raincoat from the small closet by the front door. “It can’t get in, though. I built it strong enough,” Jake said more to himself than to Hannah.
“How do you know?” Hannah asked. “This is a grizzly.”
“I know,” he said, his face sober. “I’ll check, but I really don’t think it could get in.”
True to his word, Jake was back in the house quickly, a grin on his face. “That’s what it was after, all right. It didn’t get in, but there were big claw marks on the logs.”
“You think we should tell the game warden about this?”
“I suppose—if he comes
out.” Jake sounded skeptical. “It probably won’t do any good, though.”
“No, I suppose not,” Hannah said, taking the bacon from him and disappearing into the kitchen. With the fire lit in the wood stove, she had breakfast soon on its way to the table.
Afterward, Jake did look pleased with his breakfast, and Hannah had to ask, “Did you like it?”
“Good as Mom’s,” Jake grinned.
Hannah relaxed at the compliment. “So what are you planning to do today?”
“Book work, maybe,” he said.
“The checkbook is balanced,” Hannah said, glad to have done it before he could get to it.
“I know,” he said, nodding. “Just looking at my—” He paused briefly, caught his mistake, smiled, and then continued, “Our financial situation.”
“We’re making do,” Hannah assured him, “but just barely. The bank payment on the house takes such a large chunk each month.”
“How else could we have done it?”
“Rented maybe,” Hannah said. “This is such a nice little cabin, though, dear and all.”
“Reasonable too,” Jake reminded Hannah, “for this area. It was quite a deal. Both Steve and Betty thought so.”
“I know,” Hannah said, “and I do like it here.”
“We’ll make it somehow,” he said, sighing and getting up from the table, “though I don’t quite know how.”
Hannah cleaned the kitchen while the rain dripped heavy on the windowpane and Jake busied himself at their little desk in the living room. Jake had insisted he make the entire desk by himself. Hannah wasn’t really surprised that he was so good at woodworking. Jake was good at a lot of things.
The top was a plank of a large log, sawn in half, sanded smooth, and carefully varnished. For legs, Jake used hickory wood with the cut knots showing their full glory. On the right side, two slabs of log formed the vertical frame for the drawers, which slid on wooden slides, softened by stick-on cloth gliders Jake purchased at the hardware store in Libby.
A Hope for Hannah (Hannah's Heart 2) Page 4
