A Dream for Hannah (Hannah's Heart 1)

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “I wouldn’t put much of anything past you. What’s a certain English girl going to say—the one I saw you with Saturday night?”

  “How’s she going to find out? Besides, she doesn’t have to know.”

  “I didn’t say she did.”

  “Your voice said so. Look, just keep your mouth shut and feed the dog once we get there, okay? I’m tired of all this talk.”

  Lester grunted, apparently tired of the harassment, and then asked, “Why are we coming here in the middle of the week? To throw the regular crowd off the scent?”

  “Now you’re catching on.” Peter grinned as the headlights of the MGC pierced the darkness along the edge of the dirt road. “Now, here go the lights,” he said softly. “It’s darkness from here on in.” Peter switched off the lights as the car bumped along, its tires crunching on the gravel.

  “You’d better not go too far without lights,” Lester told him.

  “I’m not. The house is just around that bend.”

  The MGC slowly pulled to a halt by the fence line. The two boys opened their car doors and cautiously got out.

  “Bring that bag of food,” Peter whispered to Lester.

  “Why don’t you carry it?” Lester asked.

  “Because you’re feeding the dog and I’m seeing the girl.”

  “I’m not going to carry it. I’ll feed the dog, yes, but you can carry the bag.” Lester stuck his hands in his pockets to make the point.

  Peter looked at him and then calmly pulled the bag out of the backseat. He took the lead as they crept up the opposite side of the fence line, using the trees and bushes to hide their approach. The night was pitch black, and not a breeze stirred. Off to the left and across the open plowed field, a dog howled. What sounded like a bat squeaked by them in pursuit of an elusive insect. Apparently it missed its prey and swooped closer over the boys’ heads.

  “Where’s this dog at?” Lester whispered.

  “I’ve always found him by the barn.”

  They passed the silhouette of the house but couldn’t see any lights through the bushes.

  “Everyone’s in bed,” Lester said, his voice low.

  “Good,” Peter agreed.

  “What if she’s in bed?”

  “That’s even better,” Peter whispered back. “She won’t hear us, and I can wake her at the window. Now, would you be quiet?”

  Lester didn’t respond because a root had just caught his foot, and he crashed to the ground, his arms sprawled wide.

  “You’ll wake everybody up,” Peter shot in his direction.

  “I couldn’t help it. Something tripped me.”

  “Shhh.” Peter commanded, holding a finger to his lips.

  Their breaths came in short gasps as they hunched over behind the fence. When no lights came on in the house, they continued toward the barn in search of the dog. They crossed the circle driveway and then paused again to listen.

  “Okay,” Peter said, “we’ll slowly approach the barn, and when the dog comes out, I will do the talking. Whatever you do, don’t run.”

  “What if he doesn’t come out? Maybe he’s in the house.”

  “Stop worrying and just be quiet,” Peter said and stepped forward. Lester followed him without much space between them. The red side of the barn loomed up before them. Peter put out his hand to steady himself. The horizontal barn siding squeaked under his hand.

  “Quit making noise.” Lester’s voice was tense.

  “Where’s that dog?” was Peter’s response, and he ignored Lester’s warning to be silent. A kerosene lamp flickered momentarily in the house and then went out.

  Seven

  The hour was late, but Sam Knepp tossed in his bed, unable to sleep. Life was passing him by it seemed. He felt like he needed to rush and do something. No doubt the day’s hard fieldwork was on his mind. Farm life was demanding, no question about it. That’s why he needed a wife before he became much older—a good wife, one that would stand him in good stead.

  Without that, the years seemed to stretch out before him endlessly. Amish life was what he wanted. With the promised farm from his father, all he lacked was a good wife—a helpmeet.

  Wearily he rolled over in bed, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop. She needed to be strong and able to bear children because he’d need children, particularly boys to help on the farm. She must be able to help with the farmwork, especially when the children were young. With moral and physical stamina, she must get up at five each morning to do the milking, no matter the weather.

  Many women, even Amish women, couldn’t take it or—worse in Sam’s mind—didn’t want to take it. That was why Hannah was in his thoughts so much of late. Yes, she was still a little young, but so many other things were in her favor that he could overlook her youth.

  Since their school days, she had been nice to him, smiling at him when he looked in her direction. But of late, things had changed. There had been that accident during the game of Wolf and the day Honey threw Hannah practically at Sam’s feet. Those were not good ways to further a relationship. He frowned in the darkness but told himself not to be discouraged. Perhaps this might be God’s way to bring them together. Shared sorrow, like the preachers said, made for shared hearts.

  In his mind there was only one goal: to arrive at the point where the bishop married them and they exchanged the sacred vows. Then there could be no turning back. He would marry an Amish girl, and she would never divorce or leave him.

  Hannah was the one for him. Of this, Sam was sure. He saw how quickly she had bounced back from the accident. Hannah had spunk. Besides that, she was a looker. Then, catching himself, Sam pushed that thought away. There were more important things in this world than physical beauty. Beauty faded away fast, the preachers said, and Sam had taken the lesson to heart. He would not allow good looks to play a big part in deciding who was to become his wife. That it played some part couldn’t be helped. Hannah was a pretty girl, but God was responsible for that.

  At that pleasing thought, he rolled over, shut his eyes tightly, and felt sleep creep slowly upon him.

  In the pitch dark, Peter and Lester pressed their backs against the barn wall and into the contour of the building. In the house and to the left of their line of sight, the kerosene lamp kept flickering on and off. Thunder, which they had not heard before, now sounded in the distance. The wind stirred and whipped the leaves at their feet.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Lester whispered.

  “Be quiet. The dog will hear you,” Peter hissed back.

  “I thought that was what we wanted? That’s what your bag of meat is for. Where’s the dog?”

  “Just be quiet. I’ve got to see this girl.”

  Along the fencerow, the wind moaned in the trees as it picked up speed. The weathervane on the barn roof rattled as it spun around to the southwest. The back door to the house unexpectedly creaked open, and there stood Roy in the back glow of the kerosene lamp. He turned a flashlight on and cast its beam first on the ground and then toward the barn. The bright beam raked the side of the barn.

  “He’s seen us. Let’s run,” Lester whispered shakily.

  “No…the dog will catch us easily.”

  “Where’s the stupid dog?”

  “He’s around here somewhere,” Peter assured Lester.

  The flashlight bobbed up and down as Roy walked toward the front of the barn, the gravel crunching under his feet.

  Peter whispered, “He’s not coming our way. Maybe he hasn’t seen us.”

  Lester said nothing.

  Roy opened the barn door on the side away from them just as lightning lit the sky to the south.

  “He’s coming out to check on the animals,” Peter said quietly.

  “Maybe he’s coming for us,” Lester said.

  Peter chuckled quietly.

  “I just want to get out of here,” Lester whispered.

  “We will just as soon as this man gets done with his animals and I can get up to that window.”


  “He’s not making any noise,” Lester managed to say.

  “What do you mean?”

  “In the barn. There’s no noise. There should be.”

  Peter considered that as he listened. The wind had picked up around them. Its moans increased in the treetops down by the fencerow. The weathervane spun around again and creaked even louder on the barn roof. A roll of thunder followed dim flashes in the distance.

  “That is strange,” Peter ventured.

  “He’s up to something. If he catches us, my dad will tan my hide to a crisp.”

  “Would you just be quiet,” Peter said in exasperation. “No one’s going to catch us.”

  Peter’s words were interrupted by a quiet insistent voice. “Shep, come here! Shep!” A shadowy figure came around the barn to the right of them. A flash of lightning revealed the distinct shape of a man. “Come here, Shep,” he said. “Come here, boy.”

  Lester and Peter held still, their bodies taut against the barn’s wooden siding. The flashlight beam in Roy’s hand swept up and down the fencerow.

  “Shep! Shep!” he repeated but received no response. “Where is that dog when you need him?”

  Slowly Roy walked past the boys, his back turned toward them, his flashlight scanning up and down his property. When he found neither his dog nor anything else, he returned to the back door. As he opened it, the light from the kerosene lamp flickered into the dark yard. Lightning flashed still closer and was followed by a sharp roll of thunder.

  “That was a close call,” gasped Lester. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Peter told him. “He was looking for his dog. He has no idea we’re out here.”

  “Let’s keep it that way, then.”

  “We will, but I have to see this girl.”

  “You can see her by yourself.”

  “I will, but you’re staying around to watch out for the dog. Otherwise, I could be up that tree when her dad shows up.”

  “What am I going to do?”

  “I want you to stand by the tree while I climb up.”

  “No,” Lester said insistently.

  “Yes, you are. Now be quiet and follow me.”

  “I’m going home,” Lester took a few steps toward the car.

  “How are you going home? I have the keys,” Peter reminded him.

  Lester grunted in the darkness and knew he was hemmed in with no way out. “Then I’m going to wait by the fencerow,” he said in protest. “If there’s any trouble, I’ll walk out, and you’re on your own. I would rather be caught out by the car than here near the house. It’ll look better. I’ll say it was your idea and I didn’t go along.”

  “Just be quiet and wait,” Peter said.

  A moment later, the two were at the base of the tree. “Wait here,” Peter said as he reached for the first low hanging branch. “It looks like an easy climb.”

  Lester said nothing as Peter climbed upward. Lightning now flashed clearly on the horizon, splashing bright light in all directions. Only the shadow of the barn kept full illumination off the tree.

  “Someone will see,” Lester hissed.

  Peter ignored him. Then suddenly Peter looked back and saw Shep approaching behind Lester, his eyes intent on the tree branches and Peter.

  “The dog!” Peter hissed.

  Lester moved quickly, though his hand was shaking, and reached behind him for the bag. His fingers found nothing but air. He wildly grabbed around and became more desperate when he only felt the grass on his palms. Where was the bag?

  “The dog’s going to bark! He sees me!” Peter whispered.

  Lester tried again, his arms stretching wide in the search. A lightning strike finally did the trick, and he caught a glimpse of the bag just a few feet beyond his reach. On his hands and knees, he crept toward the bag. Behind him he heard Shep approaching. With a deep growl, Shep drew nearer.

  “He’s going to eat me,” Lester whispered with a quaver.

  “No, he’s not,” Peter said. “Shut him up with some food. Now! Quick!”

  Lester desperately wished he’d stayed home instead of participating in this mad adventure and debated whether to run, to advance, or to wait this out. Shep took a step toward him, the hair on his neck straight up. The lightning cast crazy shadows on the lawn and made Shep look twice his real size.

  “Good doggie. Good doggie.” Lester managed to get the words past his dry lips. The bag was now between him and the dog.

  Shep advanced another step and then paused. His head was right above the bag, its raw smells wafting into his nose.

  “It’s good stuff,” Lester croaked from his parched throat.

  Shep lifted his head and growled.

  “I’ll open the bag for you,” Lester whispered and made a move toward the bag. The dog backed off slightly and waited. Lester opened the bag and pulled out some of the things Peter had brought along.

  Shep looked up expectantly at him.

  Lester pulled his hand out and tossed the tidbits toward the dog. Shep sniffed once and then lowered his head and began devouring the pieces of meat.

  “What’s going on down there?” Peter asked.

  “I’m feeding the dog,” Lester whispered back. Then the two heard a sound from the house. It was the sound of a window sliding open.

  Shep stopped eating for a moment and looked up toward the upper story. Lester dug into the bag and threw everything he had to the dog. Shep wagged his tail, lowered his head, and chomped at the food again. After a long moment, the upstairs window closed.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Lester hissed sharply.

  This time Peter listened as he moved down the trunk of the tree as fast as he could. This took old Shep, who had just finished the last of the scraps, by surprise. For the first time he barked sharply.

  “Shut up, old dog!” Peter commanded, now almost on the ground. His voice must have sounded familiar because Shep quieted down. Then he looked back and forth between the two boys and must have changed his mind—his barks began again, this time with urgency.

  “Let’s go,” Peter said as he led the way rapidly down the fencerow to the car. Together they pushed the MGC a hundred feet before Peter jumped in and turned the key. With the car started, they drove off into the night.

  “That was the craziest thing,” Lester snapped when he felt free to breathe again. “I’m never doing that again.”

  “We’ll see,” Peter said calmly. “I still want to see that girl.”

  “There are plenty of other girls,” Lester insisted.

  “Well, yes,” Peter concurred, “but not quite like this one.”

  “So, why didn’t you say something to her when that window opened?”

  “I don’t know,” said Peter thoughtfully. “I wasn’t sure it was her window. I couldn’t see too well in the dark. My first instinct was to freeze. What if it hadn’t been her? I just can’t mess this up. This may be my only chance, you know.”

  “There are all those English girls in town.”

  “Yes, but it’s not the same. I want to get this Amish girl.”

  “You are a skunk,” Lester said.

  Peter only smiled and drove wildly around a curve as Lester hung on in the darkness.

  Eight

  Roy looked none too happy at the breakfast table. “There sure was an awful lot of fuss going on around here last night.”

  “I heard you go outside once,” Kathy said quietly. “Did you see anything?”

  “Shep was gone,” Roy said with a wave of his fork. “There was no sign of him…but I was sure I heard something. I just don’t like the feel of things around here right now. It’s like something’s going on that shouldn’t be.”

  “You sure you’re not imagining things?” Kathy asked.

  “I could be,” he acknowledged and turned his attention back to the food on his plate, “but Shep did bark a little later, after I was in bed. I almost got up again. Then it didn’t last for very long. Something awfully stra
nge is going on.”

  “I heard Shep too,” Hannah said, thinking it would be best to volunteer a comment. If Peter was involved in any of this, she wanted her own part clear. “It sounded to me like he was chewing on a groundhog he’d dug up.”

  “There you go,” Kathy said, jumping on the explanation. “It was probably just the dog.”

  Roy shrugged and remained unconvinced. “I just don’t like it—that’s all I can say.”

  Hannah kept her eyes on her bowl of oatmeal, not because she was trying to hide anything, but because she felt hope stir inside of her. Perhaps Peter had come…had tried to reach her window.

  Miriam glanced in her direction. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Me neither,” Emma said, “but then our bedrooms are on the other side of the house.”

  “I didn’t either,” Isaac, for once, spoke up. “When I go to bed, I sleep. That’s what beds are for.”

  “Yes, we know,” Kathy said with a laugh. And then she looked to Hannah. Under her mother’s gaze, she felt a flush on her face.

  “Is there something wrong, Hannah?” her mother asked.

  Hannah shook her head. “No.” Her hopes to see Peter didn’t quite qualify as something being wrong.

  Kathy, using her mother’s intuition about these things, asked, “You don’t know anything more about the noises last night?”

  “Not really,” Hannah said unconvincingly.

  When her mom didn’t seem satisfied, she pressed on. “Hannah, if you do know something, you’d best tell us now. If we find out another way, it won’t sit well with us.”

  Hannah didn’t know how to answer.

  Kathy watched her a moment longer and decided to act on a motherly hunch.

  “Is this about a boy?” she asked.

  Hannah came up with the best answer she could think of without lying. “Well, I could wish it was about a boy, couldn’t I?”

  Kathy laughed out loud. “You silly girl! I guess you’re old enough for wishes like that, but remember you’re still young. There’s still plenty of time. Someone is out there for you.”