A Hope for Hannah (Hannah's Heart 2)

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Morning was when she especially enjoyed being outside. The ever-sharp freshness of this country invigorated her. Today, though, the mountains looked forbidding with their clouds still hanging heavy on the peaks.

  Well, she told herself, it’s just the weather. Jake will know what to do. But still the uneasiness wouldn’t leave.

  After Hannah started the breakfast dishes, she heard a truck approaching and knew at once it had to be Mr. Brunson. She went out to the driveway to meet him.

  He rolled down his window as she called, “Good morning! I hope you have some good news about the grizzly.”

  Mr. Brunson shook his head. “Sorry. The state isn’t going to be of much help.”

  Hannah’s face fell as she envisioned many more nights with the bear outside the cabin walls.

  “He said that with winter coming soon, the bear will hibernate. All bears do. He thinks its pattern might change in the spring.”

  “I guess we’ll have to live with it, then,” Hannah said, hopelessness in her voice.

  “Sorry. I’d shoot the thing, but you know how that would go.”

  Hannah nodded. She didn’t want to encourage breaking the law. Then she blurted out their news, the desire to share with someone else having become too great. “Jake lost his job last night. His boss stopped in after you left.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, and with winter coming.” Mr. Brunson looked concerned. “Any prospects?”

  “He’s in town looking right now. He hopes the hardware store has an opening.”

  “Well, I hope he finds something. Jake’s a good man,” Mr. Brunson said as he put his gear shift in reverse.

  “Don’t forget about supper,” Hannah said. “Mom and Dad will be here in a few Sundays. They’re staying a whole week.”

  “To a good supper, then,” Mr. Brunson said. “I’ll look forward to that. It will be nice to meet your folks.” Then he backed out of the driveway and gave her a final wave as he drove toward the main road.

  Hannah felt the aloneness creep in again and wished it were Sunday already. She would see Betty or Bishop John’s wife then. There were others too, but Hannah was looking forward to the comforting hug Betty would give her when she told her aunt about Jake losing his job.

  While Hannah grew up, Betty had always seemed much older, almost ancient from a little girl’s perspective. Even during the summers when Hannah helped with the riding stable, she thought of Betty’s age that way. Of late, though, the distance between them had become much smaller. How that could be, Hannah wasn’t certain.

  Being ancient herself was not an attractive answer, but she began to think that maybe that was what was happening. I do feel kind of ancient all of a sudden—with the bear, the baby, and now Jake’s job loss.

  The baby. For the first time that morning, joy filled her. A child, her and Jake’s child, and she had not told her mother yet. Should she? This life inside of her. This new beginning. This great unknown. Is this the way all expectant mothers feel? I suppose so, but this feels very much like I am the very first woman to ever feel this way. What joy!

  How strange, she thought. I don’t even know whether this child is a boy or a girl, yet it doesn’t seem to matter. Is this how Mom felt—not knowing, yet feeling the capacity to love regardless?

  How will this child turn out? Will it look like Jake or me? When it lays in the crib, so small and newborn, will Betty say she can tell exactly where this child comes from? Likely so, Hannah thought and smiled at the vision of Betty bending over the side rail and discerning the distant lineage of this newcomer.

  Her mother needed to be told. She could write, but that didn’t seem to be the thing to do. Already she could feel the words form in her mind, in letters on the page. Yet, she paused. Her mom was coming soon, so why not wait and tell her in person?

  Yes, she quickly decided she would wait. It would be more fun. It would make her feel closer. She felt tears form. How wonderful it would be to tell her mother while she was sitting in the living room, surrounded by the walls of her cabin—Jake’s and her cabin. This would make it so much more real.

  Still, communion Sunday seemed a long way off. Her parents would stay in the spare bedroom during their visit, and that needed preparation or at least a good cleaning. But not yet. If she cleaned it now, the room would just get dirty again before her mother arrived.

  No, it would require a last-minute rush to prepare, making everything as spotless as it could be in a log cabin. The dust and dirt were downsides to living in a log cabin, but she hoped her mother would see the plus side too. “Romantic” was not a word her mother would use, of course, but it was the word that occurred to Hannah.

  Then she remembered where Jake had gone this morning. So quickly had she forgotten and forgotten also why she wanted to move back East. But did she really? Like Jake, she loved it here. It was the very opposite of what she grew up with, but she dearly hoped it wouldn’t be taken away from them.

  This was no doubt what Jake felt and why he was less shaken by the present than she was. If you knew where you belonged, it made the staying easier and the leaving harder. If only she could be as certain as Jake. If only she had his faith that it would all work out okay.

  Hannah returned to the kitchen. Her dishes were done for the morning, and she turned her attention to other matters—mending, weeding, and the many small chores that presented themselves afresh every morning.

  Just before noon she heard the clatter of Jake’s buggy on the gravel and hurried out to the porch. One look at his face told her everything.

  “I’m sorry,” she said even before he stepped onto the porch.

  He looked as if his shoulders carried a great burden. She was struck by how out of place it looked on someone so young.

  “Nothing,” he said simply. “Mr. Howard said in a few weeks maybe, when the snow season starts but not now.”

  “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I think I might have to start some business on my own.”

  “Like you were reading about in Family Life?”

  Jake nodded.

  Hannah wasn’t sure what to think. “You’ll need money for that.”

  “I know,” Jake agreed.

  “But from where?”

  He shook his head.

  “My parents are coming soon. Maybe you could ask them,” she offered.

  Jake shook his head again. “Not your parents. We’re not asking them for money. I’m not taking the chance of losing it.”

  Not sure whether Jake was being stubborn or strong, she studied his face.

  “I’m not asking,” he repeated, seemingly reading her thoughts.

  “But the baby—” she said.

  “I know. Something will have to be done,” he replied, and he lapsed into silence.

  “I’ll have lunch ready soon,” Hannah said after a few moments, hoping that would somehow provide a little comfort to his obviously bruised feelings. She wished she could do more, but what?

  “I’ll put the horse away,” Jake said and returned to the hitching post where Mosey waited patiently to be let out of the buggy traces.

  Hannah had sandwiches ready when he came in. Jake sat down at the kitchen table. Outside the early clouds still hung around, having grown darker now.

  “Do you think it’s going to rain?” she asked in an attempt to make conversation.

  “It could.” Jake didn’t offer anything more.

  “Do you think your logging job might be available in the spring?” she asked.

  “I doubt it,” he said quietly but didn’t elaborate.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “There’s something about the business,” Jake offered. “I don’t think it’s prospering very well. Logging’s not the thing to be involved in right now.”

  She trusted Jake’s instincts in the matter and laid her hand on his arm.

  “Hannah, you still think we should move back East, don’t you?” he asked.

  Su
rprised that it was occurring to him now, she hesitated. “I think we need to do what’s best for all of us, including our baby.”

  “So do I,” Jake said, “but I really do think we should stick it out a little longer.”

  “I don’t doubt you,” she whispered even though her courage was weak.

  “If God wants us here, we should stay,” Jake said, apparently in an argument with himself, “no matter what.”

  Not sure how to take that—as if God came down and told people where to live—Hannah puzzled over how to answer. “I have feelings both ways,” she ventured. “Today I wanted to stay, but then I think of the money and the baby.”

  “I know,” Jake said, “me too.”

  They finished their sandwiches in silence—not an uncomfortable silence, just a troubled one. She wished it wasn’t so, but the fact that Jake would be around for the rest of the day turned out to be more of a disturbance than she had expected. He sat and read while she cleaned, and then he went out to the barn.

  She had supper ready at the regular time, but Jake ate little, silently pushing the food around on his plate.

  Later, they read by the light of the lantern, its hiss quickly drew Hannah into sleepiness and away from her troubles. She glanced at Jake and guessed he felt the same way. At her suggestion they went to bed early, and Hannah hoped the extra sleep would do them good.

  In the morning Jake got up first. While Hannah was still asleep, he quietly came back into the bedroom to tell her that a light dusting of snow had fallen in the night. He stayed by the bedroom window until Hannah joined him. Together they looked out at the snow—and the marks of the grizzly’s night visit.

  “I didn’t know those tracks were there,” Jake said as if he was sorry he roused her. “I didn’t hear anything in the night. Did you?”

  Hannah shook her head.

  “That might be the last of it,” Jake said and sounded as if he knew something about the habits of bears. Hannah had forgotten to tell him the news Mr. Brunson brought. At this moment she hoped both the game warden and Jake were right about the matter.

  Ten

  The snow quickly disappeared once the sun came out. Hannah, not yet ready for winter, was glad to see it melt. The thought of a howling whiteout surrounded by mountains intimidated her.

  As they drove to church the next morning, she asked Jake, “Winter’s coming early this year, isn’t it?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know the country well enough to tell for sure.”

  She didn’t press the subject because Jake was not in his best mood. With many of the odd jobs around the house finished, he sat around with nothing much to do most of yesterday. Thankfully, today they had someplace to go.

  Church was being held in the house, but because the other buggies had already gathered in the yard, Jake couldn’t get close enough to the walks to let Hannah out. So Jake brought Mosey to a stop in front of the barn.

  “This is as close as I can get,” he said apologetically.

  “It’s all right,” she said. A quick walk in to the house wasn’t something she found disagreeable. The knowledge she would soon see Betty quickened her step.

  Her aunt was already in the kitchen when Hannah walked in. She made her way around the circle of women, greeting each in turn. When she reached Betty, she felt the urge to whisper news of their troubles but decided not to. It might be considered disrespectful to talk too long even with a relative since other women were in line behind her.

  Betty seemed to sense Hannah’s thoughts and squeezed her hand before she let go. There would be time to talk after church during Sunday lunch. Hannah was surprised when the line of women began to move almost immediately toward the living room. She hadn’t realized they’d arrived that late. Young couples without children had no reason to be late for church.

  She caught sight of the clock on the wall—it revealed the time to be five till nine. Somewhere she and Jake must have misjudged the time. As the line moved forward, she took her place near the end, almost the last one before the young unmarried girls started.

  Only Sylvia Stoll was behind her. She had married Ben Stoll a month after Hannah married Jake. She had met Ben during her summer stays with Betty, when she thought of him as the scarred logger. His obvious interest in Hannah hadn’t gone anywhere. A few months later, Ben had found Sylvia in Iowa, and they were married. It looked to Hannah as if they were a well-matched couple, both were a rugged type and well-suited for this country. Not like Jake and me, she thought with a shiver. Maybe we’re out of place in this wild country. She stilled her thoughts as she sat down, shifting her weight on the hard bench.

  Beside her Sylvia sat without any motion. Hannah wondered if Sylvia also had a secret pregnancy, but she, of course, couldn’t ask such a thing. That she and Jake had a baby coming was joy enough.

  The song leader announced his selection in a loud baritone, his voice reaching throughout the house. It was strange how the babies upstairs didn’t wake up from the pronouncement, or perhaps they just quickly got used to it. Her child too would get used to it, their life, and also their ways. She smiled but only inwardly. This was, after all, church.

  Hannah wasn’t surprised when Jake led out in the next song. He was such a good singer that he got his turn on a regular basis.

  She listened to his voice with admiration—such depth of emotion as he sang. He held the notes to their proper length and swung them up and down as expertly as she had ever heard anyone do. This was her man and half the source of the life growing within her. Thrilled at the thought, she hoped Sylvia couldn’t read the joy on her face.

  Here in church, surrounded by these people, she had forgotten the storm clouds that gathered at home. Even now as she remembered the thoughts, they didn’t sting quite as much. Jake, if he could sing like that, would find some way to keep things going. If not, then maybe he would decide they should move back East. It was an option they both understood, Hannah was sure.

  Yet, the thought of a move brought a pang of regret, more so than it had at home. But she must face reality. She was sure even Betty would agree.

  The two ministers, led by Bishop Nisley, came down the stairs soon after Jake finished and found their places on the bench up front. There was nothing unusual about the sermons and nothing to indicate anything out of the ordinary.

  After testimonies, Bishop Nisley got to his feet, his eyes intense, and said, “Will the members please stay. The rest are dismissed.” There was nothing unusual in that either because this was pre-communion church. The surprise was yet to come.

  All the nonmembers filed out, mostly children and some young people, followed by several women who would prepare lunch. For the next hour, Bishop proceeded to go through the written and unwritten rules of the Ordnung briefs. Some of the session was just lecture, some of it a reminder of broken rules, and some of it a question of whether new rules should be added.

  Bishop said there was a question raised over how long newly purchased homes could keep their electric power. A reasonable amount of time was allowed now—two years—Bishop thought, and he received nodded agreement from several of the men. This allowance was intended to reduce the financial hardship caused by the transfer, especially for young couples.

  But some believed the two years allowance was too lax. Should this rule be amended to one year? The extra time might simply promote complacency and unwanted accommodation to English ways. Several of the men nodded their heads, but several others didn’t look too happy with that idea either.

  In the questions and vote that followed, the proposed change raised enough objections that Bishop cancelled the move. He stated that the time allowed would remain two years. Hannah felt relief. Though she and Jake had no electricity left at their place, she didn’t know what the future held, and their own financial hardships made her sensitive to others, such as young Sylvia beside her. Sylvia and Ben’s place still had full electric power, which included lights, and might well be the reason the rule change was br
ought up. The ministers could be nervous, she thought, when time went on and young couples made no attempt to start the changeover. Yet she didn’t want to prejudge. There might be good reasons Sylvia and Ben hadn’t switched.

  Bishop continued with his last remarks. He noted that communion service would be held in two weeks and Bishop Amos Yoder from one of the Nappanee, Indiana, districts would travel here to participate. Afterwards a new minister would be ordained. That was, of course, if there was no objection from the congregation, which there wasn’t. A quick vote confirmed the matter.

  The announcement of an ordination was the surprise. Bishop dropped the news just like that—no warning, no preparation, just the cold hard facts. Several of the men shifted on their seats, and a few women suddenly became very interested in their children. The new minister could be anyone from among them, provided he was male, preferably married, and in good standing as a member.

  Hannah felt a chill because Jake qualified. But surely he was a long shot at best. He was simply too young for such a position. Although he could sing very well, that didn’t translate into minister material. As for exactly what did translate into minister material, she didn’t know. Nobody did for that matter. There was no set pattern, no guideline, and no attention paid to speaking ability, elegance in bearing, or commanding presence. The only requirements were those read from the Scriptures. Those, of course, fit most of the men in church.

  The tension subsided as church dismissed. If any of the men felt like the executioner’s ax was poised over their necks, the feelings got lost in creamy peanut butter sandwiches, hard cheese, and the crunch of sweet dill pickles.

  Betty found Hannah after the first table setting was through. “Did you like our snowfall?” she asked in a teasing voice.

  “I do if it somehow scared away our bear,” Hannah whispered. She didn’t want the news to spread too far.

  “It should,” Betty said. “Did you get the pressure cooker to work?” Betty whispered now, obviously trying to keep the accident a secret between them. “I did write to your mother about it.”