A Hope for Hannah (20 page)

Hannah gave in with relief. She put her coat on and went to tell Jake. He raised no objection and seemed happy with the invitation. She got the horse blanket for him as he tied Mosey to the ring on the barn door. Behind them Steve’s buggy pulled in, and Hannah left for the house as Jake waited to talk to Steve.

How Betty had prepared so much food since they had come back from town, Hannah couldn’t figure out. She insisted on helping Betty set the table, though Betty wanted her to return to the couch. When Jake and Steve came in, the women joined the men in the living room, and Betty filled Steve in on the details of the day.

Later, around the table, Steve led in prayer. He thanked God for protection for those who survived the van wreck and asked for grace and comfort for Bishop Amos’s family. He prayed in simple words first and then closed with a more formal prayer from the Sunday prayer book that he knew from memory.

“We still have much to be thankful for,” Steve concluded, “even with Amos now gone.”

“Do you think anyone from here will go to the funeral?” Betty asked. “It’s a long way back East.”

“Bishop Nisley might,” Steve allowed and then glanced at Jake.

Hannah wondered what the look was about and didn’t have to wait long.

“That makes for just one preacher here Sunday,” Steve said, “except Jake.”

“You don’t think so!” Betty exclaimed. “Not already. It was only last Sunday he was ordained.”

Steve shrugged.

“It’s way too early,” Betty continued. “
Way
too early.”

“I was just suggesting it might happen,” Steve said apologetically. “Maybe Jake could use the warning.”

Jake still said nothing, but a worried look passed over his face.

“You shouldn’t say things like that. It might not even happen,” Betty said.

“It’s okay,” Jake finally said. “I’m glad Steve said something. I suppose God will give grace one way or the other.”

“Yes, I’m sure He will,” Steve allowed.

Hannah was surprised at what Jake had said. It sounded awfully spiritual to her. Was this what lay ahead of them—Jake becoming more and more like this while she remained just herself?

“How’s the new job going?” Steve asked, changing the subject.

“Okay,” Jake replied. “It will bring in some money. Not much, though. Maybe more with the log furniture business later.”

“So Mr. Howard is serious about the furniture?” Steve asked.

“He seems to be,” Jake said. “There’s plenty of room in the back of the store. Heated and everything. He thinks with some exposure on the web, it should work. We could get orders from all over, then. We wouldn’t have to rely just on the tourist trade.”

“It might work,” Steve allowed.

“You won’t get taken advantage of,” Betty asked, “working with an
Englisher
like that?”

“I’m not putting any money in,” Jake said with a weary smile. “It would be his risk.”

“He’s a decent man,” Steve said quickly. “At least he’s always been with me.”

“Now you kids let us know if things get too bad this winter,” Betty told them. “That goes for both of you. If Jake won’t say anything, Hannah can.”

“God will help us,” Jake said as Hannah glanced sharply at him.

“We will help you too,” Betty told him. “That’s what family is for—helping out.”

“It’s not that bad, surely,” Steve said with a chuckle. “God will always help those who obey him. That’s what King David said.”

“King David never had to live through a Montana winter,” Betty retorted.

Even Jake had to laugh at that, and it pleased Hannah to see him not quite so serious again.

Hannah expected Jake to be in a hurry to leave and was surprised when they stayed until after eight. The extra moments in Betty’s house were appreciated, and Hannah drew them all in with slow breaths. When they finally stepped outside, Hannah had to pull her coat tighter around herself, her eyes watering from the sting of the wind. She hoped the weather wouldn’t undo all the good effects of Betty’s tea and cozy living room.

On the drive home, Jake seemed lost in his own thoughts. Hannah waited until they were in the living room with the kerosene lamp flickering before she asked, “Do you really think you’ll have to preach on Sunday already?”

“It could happen,” he said.

“Are you ready?”

“How does one get ready for something like that?” he asked wearily. “I’ve never even spoken in front of people before.”

His young face was lined with worry. Hannah leaned against his shoulder, wanting to both give and receive comfort. She ran her hand through his hair, feeling as if she’d never done that before, as though her hand belonged to someone else entirely, but Jake smiled and kissed her.

“Do you think this is what is really supposed to happen?” she ventured. “Can this be the will of
Da Hah?”

“It must be,” he said, turning toward her, his face now in shadows. “We are not to question such things.”

“I can’t help it,” she said.

“There is no choice,” he said simply, “no choice at all.”

“We can still move to Indiana,” she said, knowing she was grasping at straws but needing to say it anyway.

“You know we can’t,” he said, the light of the lamp playing on his face, his eyes tender. “Even if I wanted to, this is where we belong.”

“What about me?” she asked. “I don’t know if I can make it. You are a preacher now. I’m not up to this. I don’t know how to be a preacher’s wife.”

Jake turned toward Hannah and gathered her in his arms, pulling her close. “You’ll do fine. Nothing has changed about us. We are still the same.”

“No, we aren’t,” she said, allowing herself to sink into his embrace. “You are changing…and fast.”

“It’s for the Lord’s work,” he said, letting his embrace loosen. “Can’t you understand that?”

“I need you,” she almost cried. “I need you the way you were. It’s been only a few days, and I already feel like I’m losing you. You’re going to have to preach, Jake. Maybe even on Sunday, already, and in front of all those people. I wasn’t made for this. What am I going to do?”

“You shouldn’t talk like that,” he said gently enough, but the pain didn’t go away.

“I can’t help it.” She felt the tears come. “Our lives are so young. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that God asks this of us. It’s not fair that the church makes such a demand on us. It’s just not fair. There are others much older. Even Steve and Betty could have handled it better. Now Bishop Amos is dead. I can’t stand this change, Jake. I
can’t."

He reached out for her hands.

“We have no choice,” he said simply as if he thought that was all the answer necessary. “We can’t turn back. If we do, it’s like forsaking God and His church. We can’t do it.”

That he was right, Hannah knew, but it did nothing for her pain. To turn back would destroy their lives much more certainly than going forward. Hannah leaned her head against his shoulder. Then she wept—partly from exhaustion and partly from sorrow, but mostly from the knowledge that their lives would never be the same again.

“It’s all over for us,” she choked.

Jake gently removed her head covering, laid the pins beside the couch, and let down her hair. He stroked her and kissed her till she quit crying.

“It will always be just the two of us,” he said softly.

“The baby too,” she said quickly.

“Yes,” he said, “the baby too,” and drew her close to him.

Twenty-three

Hannah sat on the hard bench, afraid the women around her might notice her discomfort. From how several of them had acted this Sunday morning, she knew they already felt the difference. She was now a preacher’s wife, and Jake was about to leave for his first Sunday morning ministers’ conference.

Hannah could see Jake sitting up front, away from his usual seat among the other men. That had been hard enough. Her first sight of him, what now seemed years ago, had been at church. He was so young and good looking, about to get picked to sing the praise song.

The thought of that moment almost brought a smile to her face, but it vanished before it could appear. She got lost in the thought that now Jake had been chosen again, only not just to sing the praise song. He had been called to preach, perhaps this very day.

Steve’s prediction had come true. Bishop Nisley had left for the funeral in Indiana, leaving his only other minister besides Jake to conduct the Sunday morning service. In Amish tradition, one man never was in charge of anything if it could be helped. Perhaps if this had been the Sunday school Sunday, things might have worked out, but it wasn’t. Today was the regular preaching Sunday, and two ministers must preach.

The first song started, and at the second line, Minister Chupp stood up and solemnly led the way upstairs. Jake stood and followed. In slow motion Hannah watched them leave. Jake carefully lifted his black Sunday shoes onto each step of the stairs, shoes she had freshly polished for him, hoping it wasn’t vanity.

The upstairs bedroom door closed behind them, a click that shut her out, and drove home the point that Jake now went where she could never go. Around her the singing rose and swelled, and Hannah followed along. She forced her mouth to move, but inside the fear gripped her even harder.

In what seemed like forever but was really only thirty minutes, the black shoes came back down the stairs, and the singing soon stopped. Absolute silence filled the house. Who would be the first man to get up and begin speaking to the people?

It was Jake who slowly rose to his feet, his hands trembling, his gaze unsteady. Hannah tried unsuccessfully to look away. Her eyes seemed fixed on Jake’s face, on every line she knew so well. His jaw muscles were tight, and his eyes focused on the floor.

Hannah wished she wasn’t here, wished Jake wasn’t here, wished last Sunday had never happened, wished this Sunday was not happening. But it was. Jake lifted his gaze and moved his eyes slowly around the room, but before he got to Hannah, he once again lowered his eyes.

Slowly he started to speak, haltingly at first, each word causing an ache in Hannah’s heart. She had never heard him speak in public before. He quoted something that sounded like Scripture, but she wasn’t sure. He then began to tell the story of the van accident, how he had received the news about Hannah’s parents being involved, and about Bishop Amos’s death.

Jake then spoke about Amos, how he had been a father to many, how he had been here only last Sunday, and how he had spoken to him in private after church. This Hannah didn’t know, but then she realized there would likely be many things she’d never know…things she’d never find out about.

Jake said what a great encouragement this conversation had been to him, confused as he was with the sudden turn of events. Bishop Amos had said God did not call a man to a duty and not provide the strength to fulfill it.

Then Jake told the story of the shepherd who left the ninety-nine sheep safe in the sheepfold to find the one lost in the mountains. Hannah had heard the story before, but Jake told it a little differently and concluded that the task of helping the lost and hurting belonged to each one, not just to ministers. The Good Shepherd greatly cared for the lost and wanted people to care for one another.

Hannah found herself listening, even forgetting for a moment that it was Jake. Then he was done and called for prayer. Together the whole congregation knelt as Jake led in a prayer from the prayer book. From how well he read the prayer, Hannah felt certain he had read it before, but she had never seen him do so.

Minister Chupp then read the Scripture and preached the main sermon, closing as usual by asking for testimonies. Hannah tensed for a moment, thinking perhaps someone might say Jake had preached error. No one did.

After church dismissed, the tables were spread, and lunch began. In Bishop Nisley’s absence, Minister Chupp announced the prayer time. Hannah realized this might be another public thing Jake would soon perform. She suddenly felt old and haggard, certain her face betrayed her emotions.

Apparently Betty noticed, took Hannah’s arm, and pulled her along to sit with the older women at the first table. It only made Hannah feel worse to sit with women old enough to be her mother. But almost immediately the women put her at ease with conversation that led her to believe they thought of her as not just a minister’s wife but as a person. Clara, Minister Chupp’s wife, asked about her mother and father. She answered as best she could, and then Betty took over.

“Kathy called the neighbor on Friday. Roy can’t work for a while because of his broken arm. I can’t imagine that. Steve would have a fit too. Kathy’s okay, though. Then there was the funeral yesterday, although Amos wasn’t from their district. I think he’s from around Shipshewana.”

“When are the Nisleys coming back?” Clara asked.

“I don’t know,” Betty answered.

“Probably later this week,” Ruth Yoder said from the end of the table. “They’ll take some time to visit while they’re there in the East.”

“Everyone usually does,” Betty agreed.

One of the younger girls brought new bowls of peanut butter and red beets, which made Hannah feel old and out of place again as she had often served the older women.