“I need to go.”
“But . . . I don’t like thinking of you out in your car if bad weather hits,” Helen protested. “Wouldn’t you be safer here?”
“Is there a shelter for this building?”
“Yes, in the basement. If the siren goes off, staff will be knocking on doors and helping anyone who can’t make their own way down.”
“Daad has a tornado shelter, too, and I’ll bet he and Lilian could use help with the younger children.”
“Oh, dear.” Her grandmother looked at her worriedly. “If you’re sure that’s the right thing to do?”
Hannah had been wavering, but at that moment she had the strange sense that she had to go, that she was needed. “I’m sure,” she said. “Do you understand?”
Helen smiled shakily. “I understand that you’ve found more than you expected to since coming home.”
“I have.” A sting of tears in her own eyes, Hannah grabbed her handbag, kissed her grandmother’s cheek, and rushed out the door.
The sky was ominously dark for midafternoon. Wind snatched at Hannah’s hair as she sprinted across the parking lot to her car. Her hand shook as she started the engine, and she didn’t even know why. Tornado warnings were common at this time of year. Sometimes, if a tornado actually did form, it would be two states away.
Anyway, if one had been sighted anywhere in the vicinity, she’d hear the town siren. Summer storms happened. It wasn’t hailing, or even raining right at the moment.
Still, that inexplicable sense of urgency stayed with her as she drove the familiar route toward her father’s house. This was the rare moment when she wished he had a mobile phone—and that Gideon had one, too. Neither of them was likely to bother going down to the road to check for messages at the phone shanty. And what would she tell them, anyway? She just wasn’t used to the idea of being unconnected.
There were other cars on the road, and she passed a couple of buggies. When she saw a third, she recognized Luke Bowman’s horse, so she braked and rolled down her window. On this straight stretch, she’d see any oncoming traffic.
“Do you know anything?” she asked.
“No, but I don’t like the looks of this weather. Daad and I decided to close and get home.”
Since Eli wasn’t with Luke, one of those other two buggies had likely been his.
“You have a shelter?”
“Anyone with any sense in this part of the country does. You’re going to your daad’s?”
“Yes. It was that or get stuck in town with my grandmother.”
“Then drive safely,” he said.
“You, too.” She rolled up her window and accelerated away from him, passing his house only a few minutes later. Julia would be relieved to have him home.
Perhaps it was her earlier thoughts about phones that had her braking when she reached the phone shanty the Mast household shared with several neighbors. It wouldn’t hurt to check for messages. Someone might need help.
She parked on the shoulder of the road, and got out. Her nerve endings prickled as if something wasn’t right. Hannah stopped and looked around.
What she could see of the sky was a strange color now, tinted greenish. A dark wall of clouds reared to the south. But it wasn’t the clouds that had caught her attention. It took her a minute to realize that the whole world had gone quiet. Not only the wind had stopped. It felt as if no one existed but her. The birds were silent, even the cicadas. She wasn’t even sure she heard the faint crunch of gravel underfoot when she jogged to the crude hut with one open side.
A red light blinked on the answering machine in a way that meant there was only one message. Probably it was completely routine. Someone had left it earlier wanting to book her daad to shoe a horse, or a neighbor to make a delivery. Still, she pressed the Play button with some apprehension.
The voice she heard electrified her. It was Gideon, and he sounded frantic.
“Hannah, if there is any chance you get this message, can you go to my house? I’m in town, and a car damaged my buggy. I’m going to try to ride Fergus home, but I don’t know if I can make it before this storm hits.”
Hannah cried out and covered her mouth with her hand.
“Susan always assumes I’m there and lets the kinder run up to the house on their own. I pray they will know to go into the shelter, but we can’t hear the siren that far out of town. Please, if there is any chance—”
He was still talking when she ran back to the driver’s side of her car. Even if no tornado formed, or there was one but it didn’t come close to Gideon’s farm, Rebekah and Zeb would be terrified at the strange weather and their father’s inexplicable absence.
Hannah made a reckless U-turn, uncaring that her front right tire left the road and the car tipped sideways for an instant. She couldn’t take time to let Daad or Lilian know where she was going. They wouldn’t worry, she told herself; they would assume she’d stayed with her grandmother.
She drove faster than she ever had before on this relatively narrow, two-lane road. This time, she didn’t see any other traffic, and especially not a man riding on a horse wearing a harness rather than a saddle.
She almost skidded into the driveway, and accelerated up toward the house, where she sprang out and ran for the back door.
What would she do if the kinder weren’t here? Assume they had gone to the Millers’?
She prayed as she’d never prayed before. Please, God, keep them safe. Keep Gideon safe.
She was halfway across the yard when something struck her. Another smack on her shoulder, then her head.
Hail, the size of a golf ball.
Hannah threw her arms over her head as she kept running.
* * *
* * *
Nobody had ever ridden Fergus, and he wasn’t happy to have Gideon on his back now.
The Englischer who had pulled out of a parking slot without checking his rearview mirrors or turning his head had been horrified. His relief had been almost as great as Gideon’s when Fergus heaved himself to his feet. Gideon unhitched him and walked him for a few minutes, but he didn’t even have a limp, although he might have sore knees by tomorrow.
The Englischer had more carefully moved his pickup truck and helped Gideon drag the damaged buggy into the empty parking spot. He’d given Gideon insurance information, but said he would pay himself for any repairs, or even a new buggy if that appeared necessary. Veterinary bills, too. He’d been decent, and Gideon didn’t hold a grudge.
He did desperately want to get home. He’d have accepted a ride from the man, except he couldn’t abandon his horse in the middle of town. If only he had the number for Hannah’s cell phone with him! He knew Samuel’s number, though, so he borrowed the Englischer’s phone and called to leave a message for her. Probably, she was still with her grandmother and this would do no good, but he had to try.
After hearing him, the man said, “If you have a name for the grandmother, I can try to track her down and get a message to this Hannah.”
“Denke. Thank you. If you’d do that, I’d appreciate it. I’d meant to be home by now, before my children get out of school. I wouldn’t like them to be alone, but usually I wouldn’t worry so much.”
The Englischer nodded in concern. “This weather isn’t looking good. I understand.”
He jotted down the names Robert and Helen Hinsch, and was calling information when Gideon swung himself up on the gelding’s back, gathered the too-long reins in a bundle on his lap, and squeezed his legs while clicking his tongue.
Fergus danced sideways and hunched his back, but was too well behaved to actually buck. After a few bumpy strides, he reluctantly broke into a trot.
Ten minutes into the ride, Gideon was wincing as his thighs rubbed painfully on the thick leather of various parts of the harness—and as he bounced up and down on the gelding’s back.
Eventually, he caught the rhythm, and the ride became smoother as his horse’s stride lengthened. In his urgency, Gideon wanted to gallop, but the long, ground-eating trot was all Fergus would give him.
The sky darkened. The wind returned with new strength, breaking branches from trees bordering the road, sending leaves and twigs whipping around them and dancing across the road beneath the gelding’s hooves. Gideon thanked God for Fergus’s acceptance.
Over the wind, he heard an unfamiliar sound, a high-pitched, distant shriek. That had to be the tornado alarm, and he was at least two miles from home.
If only Hannah had been there today. He could have put his trust in her. As it was, Gideon’s only comfort was the word of God, the promises He made to His faithful.
And those who know Your name will put their trust in You; for You, Lord, have not forsaken those who seek You.
Silently, Gideon prayed. I beg of you, if You need someone, Lord, take me, not my kinder.
Not Hannah.
* * *
* * *
Hannah stumbled up the two steps to the back door, fighting for control of it against the renewed wind, and all but fell inside.
“Hannah! You’re here!” Face wet, Rebekah flew at her, oblivious to the fact that Hannah wore a knee-length skirt and sweater rather than her Amish garb. “We’re so scared! Where is Daadi? Why isn’t he home?”
Zeb appeared behind her, not crying but his fear apparent, too.
“We’ll be fine,” Hannah said, gathering in the little girl and holding out an arm for Zeb. “You’ll see. Your daad left me a phone message. He was in an accident—not hurt,” she added hurriedly, “but the buggy was damaged. He said he was going to ride Fergus home, but asked if I could get here faster.”
“Is there going to be a tornado?” Rebekah asked. “Bernice told everyone she’d seen one lift a horse up into the sky.”
“Bernice thinks she knows everything,” Zeb burst out. “But she doesn’t!”
Hannah squeezed him. “No, she doesn’t, but a big tornado can tear the roof off a house, and it can toss a horse or cow or even a car as if they weighed nothing. That’s why we have a storm shelter buried in the ground, so we’ll be safe as can be. I don’t know if a tornado is coming or not, but the weather is very strange. Listen.”
They all cocked their heads. Even here on the ground floor, they all heard the hard pounding on the roof.
She held up her hand, using her thumb and forefinger to show them how big those balls of ice were.
“Zeb, you run upstairs and get some blankets. Where’s your coat? Rebekah, find your cloak. I’ll get some food, then we have to go into the shelter.”
They separated to do as she’d asked. Hannah found a plastic lidded container heaped with two different kinds of her cookies, and took a pitcher of milk from the refrigerator, too. Rebekah knew where they kept the disposable cups used for fellowship meals.
Then the three of them went out the back door. There was no longer anything like silence. Hail slammed down on the barn and house roof, and bounced on the ground. She saw a chicken running and squawking. A giant wall of dark clouds reared from the direction of town. Protecting the kinder as best she could with her own body, she urged them toward the refuge she had never dreamed they would need.
She managed to get the door open. The dark hole within sent a shiver through her, but anything was better than staying out in this wild storm. Two kerosene lanterns and a book of matches sat on a shelf right inside, but she wouldn’t be able to light either until they closed the door.
“Inside, inside,” she urged.
Zeb put his arm around his sister and did as Hannah asked, but at the last minute he turned, shouting over the sound of the wind, “What about Daadi?”
Hannah’s heart hurt at the question. “I know he’s coming as fast as he can. We’ll keep the door open until we see the tornado coming at us.”
On their faces, she saw grief, fear . . . and trust.
Hannah turned, praying to see Gideon galloping up to the barn, but even if he were there, she wasn’t sure she would see him, not with the branches of the trees dancing wildly, the hail thundering down, and a torrent of debris whirling in the wind.
She whispered a prayer for him that was snatched from her mouth.
God would hear her no matter what, she thought. Of course He would.
* * *
* * *
What sounded like a freight train bearing down on them finally frightened Fergus into a gallop. All Gideon could do was hang on. Fortunately, Fergus knew to run home.
Gideon almost parted from his back when his horse swerved onto the lane, but his grip on a piece of harness held. They were nearly at the house when the hail abruptly stopped.
He turned his head and, to his horror, saw a massive wind funnel. The sight was partly blocked by trees, but it couldn’t be more than a couple of miles away.
Groaning, he looked toward the house instead, and saw Hannah’s car. She’d come when he called for her, or even without her ever having heard his message. She loved his kinder.
He hadn’t absorbed the relief and joy when Fergus reached the barn doors and skidded to a stop so abrupt, Gideon pitched off his back. He picked himself up from the muddy ground, his ears ringing from the monstrous sound that seemed to come from everywhere, as if even the ground cried out in pain. One glance told him the tornado was coming this direction. He fumbled with the hasp and got the doors open, leading his horse inside and to his stall, then unclipped the reins and dropped them in the aisle. The other animals were out at pasture, but there was nothing he could do for them now but pray—and the barn might not be the refuge it seemed.
One of the broad doors had slammed shut. He had to use all his strength to swing the other against the wind and close it. He took one more look at the advancing tornado, then ran for the shelter. Surely Hannah would already have the kinder inside it.
The heavy door stood open against the bank of earth. He was nearly there when Hannah poked her head and shoulders out. The increasing strength of the wind whipped her hair across her face. She lifted a hand to contain it.
She saw him first, her face transforming from anguish to gratitude so profound, he knew she felt everything he did. He thought she called out his name, but then she looked past him and saw the funnel. Her mouth rounded in horror, but her instinctive response was to hold out her hands to him rather than duck for safety.
For one moment, they clasped hands, his muddy, hers cold, yet the connection meant everything. Then she retreated down the narrow, steep steps as he crouched to pull the door closed over the top of them. He fought the most powerful wind he’d ever experienced, but finally the door dropped into place and he shoved the latch to secure it. The sudden cessation of noise was almost shocking, the complete darkness disorienting.
From the darkness, his daughter asked, “Daadi? Are you really here?”
“Ja, thank the good Lord, we are all together.”
“We were scared.”
“I was scared, too,” he admitted, sliding his foot carefully to be certain he’d reached the bottom. He didn’t dare take a real step until there was some light.
“We have two lamps.” Hannah’s voice shook. “Zeb, can you get a match lit?”
The scratch of the match was followed by a tiny flicker of flame that glinted off glass. To his mild surprise, she and Zeb succeeded in lighting the lantern, and she carefully fit the chimney back in place. She adjusted the wick, and golden light flared, letting Gideon see the tiny room with benches and nothing else.
He hugged Zeb, then Rebekah, and lifted the chimney from the second lamp so Hannah could light it, too. Holding it high, he looked at his family, and choked up. Everyone he loved was here, safe.
He should never have let himself love this Englischer woman, but it was now too late. Losing her,
when she went back to her previous life, would hurt more than he thought he could bear. But right now, he wouldn’t let himself think about that.
No matter what they found when they emerged from this bunker, the Lord had given Gideon what he needed most.
* * *
* * *
With Rebekah nestled on her lap, Hannah tugged a blanket more closely about them. On the opposite bench, Zeb leaned against his daad. The lanterns cast light from the end of each built-in bench. If she were alone, she might feel claustrophobic, so tiny was the space, but with Gideon here as well as his kinder, Hannah felt an inner glow of happiness completely new to her.
“We should pray,” Gideon suggested in his deep, calm voice.
A smile curled her lips. “Let’s start with the Lord’s Prayer.”
He lifted an eyebrow, but said, “Ja, why not?”
As one, they recited a prayer they all knew by heart.
Our Father who art in heaven,
hallowed be Thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us,
and lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
They had barely finished when Rebekah shouted, “The Lord did give us our daily bread, and I’m hungry!”
Hannah chuckled, bent, and from behind her feet, lifted the container full of cookies.
“And we have milk, too,” Rebekah told her daad, who laughed.
Gideon’s gaze stayed on Hannah’s face. “With a tornado bearing down on us, only Hannah would have thought to provide us with cookies and milk while we wait out the storm. Suppose we eat, and then sing.”
None of her baked goods had ever tasted as good as these cookies did now, shared with these three people, washed down with milk.
Finding Hope Page 29
