“What about you?” Betty asked.
Hannah thought for a moment whether to tell Betty and decided to plunge ahead. She might as well know. “I had been hoping we could move back to Indiana because Jake lost his job and all.”
“Move!” Betty exclaimed. “Surely not.”
Hannah nodded. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re not,” Betty said. “I mean…that you’re staying here. Then about Sunday, I think God knew what He was doing. He wants you to stay.”
“Apparently He does,” Hannah agreed halfheartedly.
“You’ll see in time,” Betty told her.
Hannah wasn’t so certain about that, but she was glad Betty now knew about her disappointment. Somehow it made her feel a little better, the burden lighter.
“I’ll get Roy, and we’ll be ready,” Kathy said, moving back toward the house. “The young folks can come when they’re ready.”
“Hopefully not too late,” Betty said.
“No,” Hannah said. “We’re ready. I think Jake got Mosey ready before he came in. Didn’t they do a good job on the springhouse? The bear tore it up.”
“Really tore it up,” Kathy added.
“Maybe it was good someone shot it,” Betty said. “It’s the first grizzly I can remember coming down this far.”
“Mr. Brunson will have to pay a big fine,” Hannah said, “and all he was trying to do was help us out.”
“Still he shouldn’t disobey the law, I guess,” Betty said as she climbed back into the buggy.
“I’ll get the pies, and Roy and I will be right there,” Kathy said. “Hannah can bring the donuts.”
“You baked something? You didn’t need to. It’s my supper, after all,” Betty said.
“Well, you didn’t say anything, and we couldn’t just sit around all day.”
“Someone will eat it,” Betty said. “It shouldn’t be me, though.”
“I’ll help you carry the pies out,” Hannah offered as she and Kathy walked together to the house. They loaded the pies and then half of the donuts in Betty’s surrey after it became obvious there was much more room there.
Jake had Mosey hitched by the time the women were done, and the two buggies left together. As they pulled into Betty’s driveway, Hannah was flooded with memories from the summer spent here before her marriage. She wondered why the memories should come tonight. Perhaps God was trying to make things a little easier for her.
That thought brought tears to her eyes, which she hoped Jake wouldn’t notice. He did, but he seemed to understand and gave her a gentle smile. Again it struck her how fast he was changing. His newfound maturity at once comforted her and yet seemed strange, unsettling in a way she would never have imagined.
No one mentioned Sunday all evening, which was fine with Hannah. It was good not to think about it for a while.
They stayed later than Hannah thought they should, remembering that Jake had to drive into Libby the next morning for his new job. But the night was simply a night of family, of reveling in the company of loved ones. On the way home, Hannah felt nothing but peace. She thanked God He had comforted her for one evening at least.
Twenty-one
Hannah woke before the alarm clock went off to the sound of a van motor outside the cabin. Quickly she dressed and went out to find her parents up and the suitcases already loaded.
“We wouldn’t have left without saying good-bye,” Kathy whispered as she gave Hannah a tight hug. “But don’t wake Jake. He has a long first day of work ahead of him. Give him our love…and a hug.”
Hannah nodded. Her father took her hand and squeezed it a moment before letting go.
Hannah watched from the open cabin door as her parents disappeared into the van. The dome light blinked off, and the gravel crunched under the moving vehicle as it made its way out to the main road.
Hannah stood there as the chilly morning air poured in through the door, not wanting to turn back inside just yet. Finally she closed the door with a sigh. A glance at the living room clock told her it was no use going back to bed. She sat down on the couch and cried instead as an awful loneliness swept over her. Then she noticed Jake’s Bible on the floor, the light from the kerosene lamp playing off the black cover and highlighting the gold letters. She thought about reading it—to search for comfort.
The realization that Jake had been reading his Bible the night before held her back. She knew why he had read it, the reason still oppressive. He must have been studying for his first sermon. The book before her was more her enemy than her friend. They had been thrown into a strange, unknown land, and now Jake was willing to venture forward while she was remaining behind.
Jake was walking into this new world alone, and it was up to her to follow if she wished. She felt so alone and even a bit ashamed at the same time.
For a few minutes, Hannah dozed, but she awoke to a fit of sneezing and found some tissue to blow her nose.
Just then Jake came out of the bedroom. “So they’re gone,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t hear them leave. I should have gotten up.”
“They didn’t want me to wake you,” Hannah said and then sneezed again. “I’m afraid the cold I was catching earlier is coming back.”
“Maybe you should go back to bed. I can get my breakfast.”
“No, I’ll be fine. I’ll get breakfast for you.”
“Then I’ll get Mosey harnessed,” Jake said as he reached for a gas lantern in the closet. With it lit, he stepped outside and walked toward the barn, the light rising and falling with each step. Hannah took a moment to watch him go, the loneliness heavy again.
I’ll get over it, she told herself resolutely. I have Jake and will soon have the baby. And I have Betty. I’ll see Mom and Dad again. She felt a little better and started breakfast preparations.
Jake soon came back inside, and they ate in silence. Hannah was glad for Jake’s good mood. It offset her own feelings of loneliness and even despair.
With breakfast done, Jake left while it was still dark. He had to be at the hardware store well before it opened. The sound of his buggy wheels soon faded, and Hannah returned to the couch to lay down. Finally her sadness gave way to sleep.
Just before ten she awoke to a wave of guilt. The dishes were still on the kitchen table, and the house was in disarray from her parents’ visit. Jake had never said anything about how she kept house or how clean it was or wasn’t, but she didn’t want to take any chances. She often had visions of Jake growing up in a house kept spotless by the unswerving diligence of his mother. Hannah felt she should equal what he was used to.
Hannah worked as best she could, but by late afternoon she realized her sniffles and sneezes had developed into a full-blown cold. She gave in again to tiredness and was asleep on the couch when an insistent knock awoke her. Thoroughly embarrassed, she saw a buggy in the driveway and hoped it was Betty’s. If it was someone else’s, she didn’t know how she would ever live down the shame of having been caught asleep in the middle of the afternoon. The visitor surely must have seen her through the front window.
“Hannah?” Betty’s voice came clearly from the porch.
Relieved, Hannah rushed to open it, sure her embarrassment still showed on her face.
“Hannah,” Betty said when she opened the door, “I have to come in.”
“What?” Hannah felt alarm run through her at the expression on Betty’s face. “Is something wrong?”
Betty said nothing but pushed past Hannah and sat on the couch. She motioned for Hannah to be seated beside her.
Numbly, Hannah obeyed.
“There’s been a wreck,” Betty said simply. “It’s pretty bad, I’m afraid.”
Hannah’s heart seemed to stop at the news. “Mom and Dad?”
“Yes…well, the van they were in. A pickup truck came across the median.”
Hannah gasped and then asked, “How bad?”
“I don’t know for sure.�
�� Betty shifted on the couch, and Hannah was certain she wasn’t telling her all she knew. Hannah reached out and grabbed her arm.
“You must tell me.”
“Someone was killed, I believe, but the state police wouldn’t release the information.”
“Who?” Hannah knew her fingers were digging into Betty’s arm.
“The state police called your cousin’s house in Indiana. The Mennonites. They must have taken word down to the rest of your family.”
“Did they say who was hurt…or killed?”
“No, just gave the hospital number.” Betty answered the next question before Hannah asked. “I called from the neighbor’s. Your cousin returned my call there and left a message. No one at the hospital would give information out, and they said neither of your parents was available. I couldn’t think of who else to ask for…who else was in the van.”
“There was Bishop Amos and his wife.”
“Oh yes, of course,” Betty said. “I should have known that.”
“So what should we do?” Hannah wondered out loud. “Where is the hospital?”
“In Buffalo, Wyoming. They had been driving all day.”
“We can’t go there,” Hannah voiced her thoughts.
“I don’t know. It depends how bad it is. We may have to.”
“I’ll leave a note for Jake,” Hannah decided, getting up, “or maybe we can catch him on the way home. He goes right past your place. If not, he can come over afterward.”
“That sounds good,” Betty said as she stood up.
“On top of everything else, I’ve got a cold,” Hannah added as she grabbed a tissue.
“Why does everything come at once?” Betty asked. “They were just here with us. How can this happen?”
“I don’t know,” Hannah said, equally distraught.
Carefully she wrote the note to Jake, explaining what little she knew about the accident and saying she was at Betty’s waiting for news.
Betty now seemed in a hurry to go, so Hannah got her coat. The crispness of the outside air caught her by surprise and provoked another bout of sneezing.
“You shouldn’t be out in this,” Betty said as they climbed in the buggy.
Hannah thought she shouldn’t be in any of this—the bear trouble, the financial strain, the minister’s duties, the loneliness, and now the terrible anxiety over her parents’ lives—but she didn’t feel she could complain about it to Betty. God was still in charge, she forcefully reminded herself, even though it didn’t feel like it.
“You sure are taking this well,” Betty commented as she took her seat in the buggy and handed Hannah a quilt. “Here, wrap yourself in this.”
“I don’t know if I’m taking it well or if I’m just numb,” Hannah said.
The buggy jerked forward, and Betty drove rapidly toward her neighbor’s house. Hannah used her handkerchief liberally, unable to distinguish between the tears from her cold and the tears from her fears.
“We don’t bother Mrs. Emery too much,” Betty said as she pulled to a stop. “Steve wants to talk with Bishop Nisley about putting a phone in the barn. Something needs to be done about our phone situation, I’ve been telling Steve. If Mrs. Emery isn’t home, it’s the phone booth in Libby. That’s too far. “
“We can go into Libby if you think it’s best,” Hannah said. “We might be a bother here.”
“Mrs. Emery won’t mind. Not in an emergency,” Betty assured her. She got out to tie the horse. Moments later they were at the door, but no one answered their knock. They listened but heard only silence.
“She must have gone to town,” Betty concluded.
“We’d better just use the phone there,” Hannah said.
“I suppose we have no choice.”
With the matter decided, they drove into Libby and stopped at the grocery store on the edge of town.
“I could go on down and tell Jake,” Hannah offered, “now that we’re here.”
“We’d better get some information first,” Betty said. “Here’s the phone number. Maybe you should call.”
Hannah felt a quiver of fear at what might lie at the end of her phone call, but figured she might as well hear the news straight. She desperately wanted to believe the information wouldn’t be too bad.
“I’ll need coins,” Hannah said.
“I have some.” Betty reached into her coat pocket.
Hannah wasn’t sure how many she would need, but the several quarters Betty produced seemed sufficient.
She dropped quarters into the slot and dialed the number on Betty’s piece of paper. Her fingers trembled in the cold wind swirling around the phone booth, her nervousness only making things worse.
She dropped in more coins as directed by a digitized recording. Then a distinct voice answered, “Good afternoon. Buffalo Hospital. How may I help you?”
“My name is Hannah Byler,” she said. “I am calling to talk with my mother, Kathy Miller. We had a report of an accident in which my parents were involved.”
Hannah wrapped her coat tightly around her shoulders. Still the wind whipped even harder than it had on the drive into town. Bent away from the blast, she tried to use the sides of the phone booth to get a measure of shelter. There were noises on the line, and she expected the voice to tell her Kathy Miller wasn’t available.
“I will page her,” the voice said instead.
Silence followed for a few minutes, and then the digitized voice came back on and said, “You have fifty seconds before your time expires.”
With cold fingers and a nose that was running furiously, Hannah dropped in several more quarters.
“Yes?” her mother’s hesitant voice greeted.
“Mom!” Hannah forgot the wind and the cold, gladness leaping into her voice.
“Hannah,” Kathy said. “How did you find us?”
“Betty,” Hannah answered. She could see Betty waiting anxiously at her elbow. “The state police called Indiana. They wouldn’t give us any news, though. Are you okay?” Hannah left the rest of the question unasked.
“Your dad and I are okay…but Bishop Amos didn’t make it.” Kathy’s voice broke, coming faintly over the line through the tears.
“Amos.” Hannah remembered Sunday, the ordination, and the bishop’s hands on Jake’s head. “He’s gone?”
“Yes,” Kathy said. “The accident turned the van on its side. We slid for a ways.”
“But you and Dad? You’re both okay?”
“Dad has a broken arm. I’m okay. I fell on him, I think, when the van turned on its side. Everybody else just has bruises.”
“Should we come?” Hannah asked.
“No,” Kathy said quickly, “that’s not necessary. Things are being arranged. We’ll get home. Word has been taken down to the family, so they know. There will be the funeral, of course, for Amos. But you won’t be expected to come.”
“Okay,” Hannah said as the digitized voice said she had thirty more seconds. “Will you let us know when you get home?”
“Yes, I’ll let you know through Betty’s neighbor,” Kathy agreed. “I have her number.”
“All right, then. Good-bye, Mom…” Hannah said, her voice breaking.
“We’ll be okay,” Kathy assured her. “Please don’t worry.”
When Hannah hung up, Betty said, “It was Bishop Amos?”
Hannah nodded. “I need to tell Jake.”
Twenty-two
Betty stayed in the buggy while Hannah went into the hardware store to tell Jake. She thought about asking for him at the front counter but decided to simply search. That would also give her a chance to see what the store looked like.
She found him on the third aisle she glanced down. He was bent over, unpacking items from a large cardboard box and placing them on the shelves.
“Jake,” she whispered as she approached.
“Hannah,” he said, standing up, “what are you doing here?”
“There’s been an accident. The van Mom and Dad were in,” s
he whispered, hoping the owner wouldn’t see her and think she was taking up Jake’s time unnecessarily.
“Your parents,” he asked, “are they okay?”
She nodded quickly. “Dad’s got a broken arm. It’s Bishop Amos, though. He didn’t make it.”
“Oh, no!” Jake set the case of batteries he held on the floor. “That’s unbelievable. He was just here on Sunday.”
Both were silent for a second, taking it all in. Then Hannah said, “Mom doesn’t know when the funeral will be.”
“We can’t go anyway,” Jake said slowly.
“No,” Hannah agreed, not certain whether Jake wanted to go or not. Would what happened Sunday give Jake reason to attend? Could it be another obligation, an expense they couldn’t afford?
“Maybe some of the others will go,” Jake said hopefully.
“Well, I’d better be going,” she said. “Stop at Betty’s house and pick me up.”
“Okay,” he said.
She turned to go, glancing back his way as she got to the end of the aisle. His back was already bent over the carton again. So quickly, she thought, life can change, and yet it continues on again.
When they arrived at Betty’s, Hannah got out and helped unhitch the horse. As she led him into the barn, the memories flooded her again. Here she had worked that summer, dreaming about what her life would be like with Jake. Never had she dreamed it would mean being married to a minister.
She gave Betty’s horse a shovel of oats and returned to the house. Betty, still concerned about Hannah’s cold, settled her on the couch with a blanket and some hot tea.
“I should be doing something,” Hannah soon insisted and moved to get up.
“No, you need the rest,” Betty said, insisting she lay back down. “It’s probably just tiredness from having your parents here all week and now this tragedy.”
Hannah reluctantly settled back on the couch. She had to admit Betty’s mothering did feel good. She let the cozy feeling envelope her as she felt protected for the moment from the swirling world of responsibility.
A Hope for Hannah (Hannah's Heart 2) Page 13
