A Hope for Hannah (33 page)

“It would be terrible if they left,” Hannah said. “Rebecca so doesn’t want to go.”

“I know,” Jake said in his preacher voice, and Hannah was surprised it didn’t bother her. She leaned against his shoulder as a yawn overcame her. How she could be so relaxed after this day was a mystery, like a lot of other things in her life right now.

Thirty-six

With the intense activity on Sunday, Hannah nearly forgot the young people’s gathering at Betty’s. On Thursday morning she mentioned it to Jake, and he had no objections. In fact a little grin spread over his face. “It makes me feel young to be invited to a youth gathering,” he said. “It’s been a while.”

“It sure seems to be lifting your spirits some. You’ve been so sober-faced lately. You know you shouldn’t think about church troubles all the time.”

“No,” he agreed, “I shouldn’t. But I do wish I could talk to John before Sunday.”

Not wanting to be involved in a weekday visit with the bishop, Hannah thought quickly. “Betty’s going to pick me up after lunch. She suggested you drop by on the way home. Instead, why not swing past the bishop’s house? You’d have plenty of time before the gathering starts.”

“Yes, I could do that,” Jake said, “and I’d still be there early.”

Jake left for work, and Hannah spent the morning cleaning the cabin.

After lunch Betty picked her up, and the two women spent the afternoon preparing for the evening ahead. They finished just before the first of the youth arrived. By seven thirty the gathering was in full swing, buggies parked all over the yard and horses packed tightly in the barn. These were not all the same youth Hannah knew from a few years ago, but Hannah easily lost herself in the spirit of the night, as if she were young again. It was as if time had rolled away. For that evening, she no longer was a mother who had lost her baby, a preacher’s wife, or even a woman with a cabin to keep.

With a jolt she suddenly realized Jake hadn’t arrived. “I wonder why Jake’s still not here yet,” she whispered to Betty.

“I can’t imagine,” her aunt said. “You don’t think something happened to him? Wasn’t he stopping at the bishop’s home?”

The two women made their way to the kitchen to check on the cider heating on the stove.

“Yes.”

“That could take some time.”

“This much?”

Betty smirked. “Church things? Of course.”

Hannah could only nod in agreement. It could well be church things. She had learned that already.

“I’m going outside for a minute,” Hannah said as she went to get her coat.

Betty nodded in sympathy and went back to the living room to be with the young people.

Hannah stepped out the kitchen door where the chilly night air enveloped her immediately. Overhead a brilliant swath of stars stretched almost from horizon to horizon, slightly offset to the south. Over her shoulder, just above the ridge of the house, the moon hung with one bright star to its upper right.

Hannah gazed at the star. The line of light seemed to come from the depths of immeasurable space and pierced her soul. She shivered with the feeling.

Surely Jake was just talking long with Bishop. She stepped out into the yard and listened for a horse’s hooves on the pavement. Jake should be coming from the south. When no sound came, she walked out to the road to listen. There was only the great stillness of the sky above her. Even the voices from the house had faded away.

So this is to be my life,
she thought, and the loneliness almost overwhelmed her. Jake was being taken away from her slowly but surely.
This is how it will always be, church work and demands taking up ever more of our time
—
Jake’s time and my time
—
until none is left.

The chill penetrated her coat even as her thoughts pierced her heart. Hannah pulled her arms tightly around herself. It helped keep out the cold air but not the unwanted thoughts. Only the sound of hoofbeats on the pavement would comfort her at this moment, but no sound came.

As she walked slowly back toward the house, she was struck with the horrible thought,
What if something has happened to Jake? An accident? So
real was her fear that she walked back out to the road to listen again, shivering in the cold.

There was no sound of sirens in the distance. But then she told herself,
Maybe I can’t hear them from here. The accident could have happened anywhere, somewhere far from here
—
maybe just outside Libby before Jake had even gotten out of town.

Jake could have been taken to the hospital. How would she be notified? Jake carried no identification. He would just be a nameless Amish person lost in some numbered room at the hospital.

That is
if he
made it to the hospital. A worse fear ran through her. Had not Bishop Amos died in a wreck just after ordaining Jake? Was this something that could be passed on? At the moment, anything seemed possible.

When Hannah, her body chilled from the cold, went back inside, her face must have shown the distress she felt.

“Nothing?” Betty both asked and answered the question. “Oh, they’re probably just talking long. That’s to be expected.”

Hannah nodded numbly, forcing herself to move to the living room. It wouldn’t help to stay in the kitchen, away from the others. That might only draw attention to herself. With a pasted-on smile, she joined the group.

As they had for the past two years, the youth were busy assisting Helping Hands, a ministry in Libby, with their Christmas package preparations. They were wrapping up the clothing and toys, supplied by the Goodwill in Libby and its sister store in Kalispell, so that the packages could then be distributed to the area’s needy children.

Hannah offered to take her turn at one of the six ironing boards set up to press the clothes before they were placed in the packages.

“Over here,” Emily Nisley, Bishop John’s oldest daughter, said cheerfully. “My arm’s about ready to drop off.”

Hannah gripped the handle of the iron and leaned against it for support, her emotions still swirling because of Jake’s absence. The iron’s angry sizzle at being pressed into the cloth caused her to jerk the iron upward.

“Oh,” she said at Emily’s puzzled look, “I’m not always that clumsy.”

“The iron gets hot a little quickly,” Emily said in a helpful tone.

Hannah smiled her thanks.

She slid the iron across the dress, and Emily left, finding a seat beside Enos Chupp, who was busy folding clothes for the packages.

Enos was Mose Chupp’s second boy and a little older than Emily. Not too long ago, Hannah would have known every boy’s age pretty close to the month, but how things had changed. She was definitely no longer one of the youth. Even less so now that she was a minister’s wife.

Hannah had to smile at the way Emily looked shyly at Enos as she helped him fold the clothing. From time to time, she would drop her gaze to the floor and then raise it back to Enos, who seemed to enjoy the attention. His lips moved easily as the two engaged in conversation.

Oh, to be young again,
Hannah thought, turning her mind back to her ironing before she burned something else.
Young love and where it leads, I ought to know,
she told herself.

As soon as all the packages were finished, Betty and Hannah served the refreshments. The young people took their plates into the living room, the hum of conversation filling the room.

Hannah tried to keep busy and not focus on the fact that Jake had still not arrived.

“Maybe Steve should go look for him,” Betty whispered when she noticed Hannah’s drawn face.

“No,” Hannah said. She simply wouldn’t allow her mind to entertain the thought of something wrong. Whatever was keeping Jake—no doubt just a long conversation with Bishop Nisley about church business—was easier to handle than any other option.

“But what if?” Betty asked, apparently having no qualms with troublesome thoughts of possible danger. “Surely he would have let you know.”

“He’s just talking long.” Hannah pressed her lips together firmly, struggling to control her fears.

“You have more courage than I do,” Betty said with admiration. “It’s getting pretty late.”

“I know,” Hannah said, dreading the moments ahead when the young people would leave and there would possibly be no Jake.

Thirty minutes later, as the boys began to drift out to the barn to hitch their horses to the buggies, Jake still had not arrived. Hannah watched the horses snort white steam and jerk their heads into the air as the boys drove their buggies near to pick up sisters or cousins and take them out into the night.

Hannah went back to a chair at the kitchen table to calm herself. When the last young person had left, she knew she had to consider the worst. Someone would have to go look for Jake, and she knew what he would be looking for—a mangled body along the road or an equally torn body in the hospital. It would be just another of the frequent buggy and automobile accidents the Amish had come to accept as their lot. She folded her arms across her chest and willed herself to continue to breathe.

She would not go along. Betty would see to that. Steve would go on his own, and the tense, drawn-out wait would begin. Already her knuckles were white under the kitchen table. She pushed the unthinkable away, gathering herself together.

The noise of the departing buggy wheels crunching in the snow outside must have kept Hannah from hearing the sound of Jake’s buggy arriving. Jake tied Mosey to the hitching post and briefly greeted the last of the youth on their way out.

He feared what awaited him inside and said as much to Steve, who had been helping the last of the boys hitch up.

“I know I’m really late,” he said, his breath coming in long white streams.

“Hannah’s been worried,” Steve admitted, “but Betty’s kept her busy. You missed out on a good youth gathering. We had quite a nice group here.”

“Always did,” Jake agreed. “We were part of the group ourselves not that long ago.”

The two men made their way to the house, and Jake waited while Steve opened the kitchen door.

The suddenness of Jake’s appearance brought Hannah to her feet.

“I’m so sorry,” Jake said as he walked over to Hannah. “I would have let you know, but there was no way. It just took so long.”

Hannah couldn’t find words but knew her face showed her distress far more than her words could anyway.

“Did Bishop keep you?” Betty asked from the living room door.

Jake ignored Betty as he sat down. He took Hannah’s hands and drew her back down to her chair. He said nothing, allowing his eyes to express his regret over the pain his lateness had caused. Hannah resisted being drawn in by his gaze but then let go as the tears came.

“I didn’t know what kept you,” she said. “It could have been—”

Jake squeezed her hands. “But it wasn’t. I’m here now.”

Hannah relaxed and smiled.

When he saw that Hannah was fine again, he turned to Betty and asked, “Is there any food left?”

“Isn’t that just like a man!” Betty said. “He comes in late and thinks of nothing but food.”

“There’s plenty left,” Steve said with a chuckle. “Help yourself.”

Jake did help himself, and Hannah, now feeling relieved and finding that her own appetite had returned, fixed herself a healthy plate. Betty, of course, fussed over them as if they both needed attention.

Hannah leaned against Jake on the way home. They rode in silence.
It is better this way,
Hannah thought. Apparently neither Jake nor she could change what they had become—two puppets pulled along by the strings of life. She yearned to stop everything and just hold on to Jake until the two of them were left alone, letting life and all its troubles pass them by.

“Bishop said Will and Rebecca are staying,” Jake said sleepily as they pulled into the driveway.

“Really!” Hannah sat up straight upon hearing this good news. “That’s wonderful.”

“Yes,” Jake said, “it is. It will be best for them and for all of us.”

Thirty-seven