A Hope for Hannah (25 page)

“Will that cost a lot?”

Dr. Lisa shrugged. “Maybe we can pass on the ultrasound. We’ll see. It’s not always conclusive anyway. I can do another type of test after you’re twenty weeks along. That one we can be sure of.”

“What if the baby
does
have the infection?” Hannah had to ask.

“Well, that’s not good,” she said simply. “There is always a chance of a miscarriage, but it doesn’t happen often. Another possibility is a normal birth with the possibility of problems later.”

“What kind of problems?”

“I don’t want you to dwell on something that’s not likely to happen. But I also want you to be informed. In some cases, there is the potential for an eventual mental disability, vision loss, possibly even seizures.”

Hannah didn’t take this well. The sudden news hit her hard.

Dr. Lisa put an arm on her shoulder. “But please remember, that’s only in a small percentage of cases. Let’s not borrow trouble.”

“It’s just so hard,” Hannah said, referring to more than just the baby.
Why this now
—
on top of everything else?

“I’m sorry, but I really do think it’s best you know the possibilities as soon as possible. But remember it’s not likely. It’s only a possibility we have to consider.”

When Hannah seemed to have calmed herself, Dr. Lisa gave her a quick hug and said, “You can get dressed now. The prescription will be at the front desk. Have it filled and start taking it right away.”

“I will,” Hannah said, her voice trembling.

“And don’t worry,” the doctor said. “We’re going to assume the best.”

A few minutes later, Hannah came into the waiting room, her eyes still red. She controlled herself while writing the check for the receptionist and accepting the prescription. But once outside in the buggy with Betty, she no longer held back her emotions and sobbed openly.

Betty held Hannah close, not asking any questions. The horse waited at the post.

“There, there,” Betty said gently. “The Lord must really have it in for you two. Is something wrong with the baby?”

“It’s not for sure,” Hannah managed before she burst into fresh tears. “It’s not just the baby. It’s
everything.
Jake and the ordination—he’s so strange now. Now I have horrible parasites.”

“Parasites?” Betty asked.

“Yes,” Hannah choked, “from that deer meat we’ve been eating. I was trying so hard to save money. Jake was too. Now we might have harmed our baby.”

“You sure you know what you’re talking about?”

Hannah nodded.

“Did the doctor give you any information on these parasites?”

“She told me about them, that’s all, and gave me a prescription,” Hannah said.

“I’ll be right back,” Betty said and stepped down from the buggy.

To Hannah it seemed she had been sitting there in the cold alone a long time. She was beginning to think she should go inside when Betty returned.

“They gave me this,” Betty said, waving some papers around. “It doesn’t look good.”

Hannah sank back into the buggy seat.

“We should go tell Jake about this,” Betty said.

“No,” Hannah said, “he has work to do. I don’t like going into that hardware store anyway.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Betty agreed. “Let’s get your medicine, then.”

“That’s going to cost more money,” Hannah groaned. “I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it,” Betty said. “It’s part of life. Just remember the church is here to help you.”

“Jake’s a minister,” Hannah said with no idea why she said that. The thought just pushed into her mind.

“See,” Betty said as if the words made perfect sense. “All the more reason.”

They drove toward the drugstore on the main street, the sound of the horse’s hooves cutting like knives through Hannah’s emotions. She let the tears come freely.

Twenty-eight

When Jake arrived home, he found Hannah still weeping on the couch. Clutched in her hand were the crumpled papers Betty had gotten from the doctor’s office. She waved the pages weakly in Jake’s direction.

Jake took them but didn’t read anything. Instead he sat down and drew Hannah close. “What’s wrong?” he asked. He smelled of wood shavings and winter air.

“The doctor said what I thought was a cold is really an infection caused by parasites, likely from the deer meat.” Hannah sat upright. “These papers have information about them. If the baby is infected, it could mean…”

Hannah didn’t finish. Jake glanced briefly at the papers, and then his eyes focused on hers again. “What about you?”

“I’ll be okay,” she said. “Just the baby’s in danger.”

“We’d better stop eating the meat, then,” he said.

She shook her head. “I think the meat wasn’t cooked enough. If I had cooked it longer, this might not have happened.”

“So what do we do?”

“I have medicine here.” She pointed toward the desk. “It cost too much.”

Jake lifted the pages in his hand and scanned them for a few minutes. “We had better pray,” he said softly.

Hannah felt hopelessness run through her. “I’m infected already.”

“The baby isn’t.”

“How do you know?” She looked him in the face, searching for an answer that wasn’t there. Feelings of despair and hope mingled together inside of her.

“I don’t,” he said. “Only God does.”

“Why is all this happening to us? Does God mean for this to happen?”

“He knows our needs. He’ll take care of us,” Jake said.

Outside it had begun snowing, but neither of them noticed.

“I have to get supper,” Hannah suddenly remembered. “But what? Can we still eat the deer meat?”

“What did the doctor say?”

“Nothing other than the infection was likely caused by the meat being undercooked.”

“Steve and Betty didn’t get infected, so she must have cooked it thoroughly. I wonder why I’m not sick?”

Hannah was ashamed to admit she had never even thought of Jake eating the same meat. “Maybe you just don’t have the symptoms yet.”

“Well, I know one thing. We can’t be afraid. And it says right here that the infection, once treated, is unlikely to return. I think we’ll be okay if you just make sure the meat is cooked thoroughly.

“I’ll burn it black,” she said half in jest.

He smiled and said, “I don’t think I could eat any tonight anyway. Just do what you think best.”

“I’ll make soup.” She made her way slowly to the kitchen. Jake picked up the
Family Life
and settled into his chair.

Hannah noticed the snow through the kitchen window. It was coming down in large flakes that drifted close to the glass pane.
So like life,
she thought,
lovely and light till you handle it. Then it leaves you cold inside. I must be cried out,
she thought as she prepared the soup.

Less than an hour later, Jake said a simple prayer as they bowed their heads before eating. He asked God to help them and give them grace for the trials of life and light from His Word to guide the way. He so tenderly asked for protection for the baby that it seemed he already held it in his arms.

When he was finished, Hannah knew there were tears still left in her after all because they rolled freely down her cheeks. Jake noticed, touched her arm from across the table, and waited until she calmed down before he dished out his soup.

“It’s snowing,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I know,” she replied. “It looks serious.”

“God will protect us,” Jake said calmly. “It will soon be Christmas.”

“What has that got to do with it?” She looked at him, puzzled.

“That’s when the Christ child came—in the manger.”

Hannah waited and wondered what Jake meant.

“The angels came close to earth that night. Maybe they come near every Christmas.”

Hannah glanced sharply at him. He was changing faster than she could keep track of. If he could say things like this, it was no wonder he could preach well on Sundays. But did he mean it?

“Do you really think so?” she asked. “His angels will protect us?”

“I don’t know.” Jake glanced over at the window. “If they do, perhaps they will protect our child. It’s not in a real manger, but it’s in a sort of manger.”

“It’s just our baby,” she said. “It’s not the same as the birth of Jesus.”

“Maybe to God it’s enough,” he said. “He has cared for little children all along, has He not?”

“You must be careful about what you say,” she warned, the emotion strong in her voice.

Jake didn’t seem to mind. “I know,” he said, nodding slowly.

“You must be careful too with your preaching,” she told him. “Remember the bishop’s visit.”

“Yes,” he said, “it’s still the will of God in everything. I know that.”

“What if the baby is born with the infection?” Hannah asked. “Is that the will of God too?”

“I suppose it is…and then it is a burden we must bear.” Jake sighed. “Whatever His will is, it will be what’s best for us.”

When they finished their soup, Hannah got up to do the dishes, and she felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over her. She managed the chore and then went to the living room where she found Jake reading his Bible.

“I’m going to bed,” she said.

“I’ll be along,” he said. But she was fast asleep long before he closed his Bible and joined her.

When she awoke in the middle of the night, after tossing and turning with a bad dream, he was there next to her. Seeing him there was a comfort.

She had dreamed she was back home again. The house was so familiar and comforting—so strong and protecting. Each day went by normally—and yet not quite. A hidden danger seemed to follow her every move. When she hung out the wash or did the dishes, the dark cloud hovered over her. In both thunderstorms and sunshine, she felt its presence. She tried to tell her mom, but the words wouldn’t come out of her mouth. She tried once to meet her father at the door when he came home from work, but no matter how fast she walked or how hard she strained, she couldn’t get there in time. Even on Sunday, when she sat among all the usual people from her growing up years, she tried to scream that danger was coming, but no one could hear her.

The awfulness of it had jarred her awake. Her face was sweaty, and her arms were cold. Her only solace was that it had been a dream. It had seemed so real. Jake’s even breathing was like a tonic to her. She lay back on her pillow and listened for a while.

Then the realization hit her.
I have to write to Mom,
she thought.
I should have done it yesterday. But there was no time yesterday even if I’d thought to do it.
Certain she wouldn’t be able to sleep, she got out of bed, careful not to awaken Jake.

Wrapped in a blanket, she went into the living room. The snow was falling against the window. She lit the kerosene lamp, pulled the drawer open, got the paper tablet, and started writing.

Dear Mom,

It now seems like many years since you and Dad were here. I would so love to hear your voice again and see Dad sitting on the living room couch. If not here, then in Indiana, but it seems like it will not be. Jake thinks we are to stay in Montana, and I do have to agree with him.

We seem to be having nothing but troubles. I don’t understand why this should be, but I know what you would say. Trouble makes us grow up. Well…I feel like I am about as grown-up as I can stand. Things are happening so fast.

That my Jake—my good Jake—now has to stand up and preach in front of church, who would ever have imagined such a thing? I must say he did a good job the other Sunday. I wish you had been here. He was so good that it scared me.