A Hope for Hannah (6 page)

Jake hadn’t said anything about the weather, which he usually did if a major rain was moving in. He liked to pass on the reports his boss gave him.
Perhaps he’s distracted,
Hannah thought.
I’ve given him plenty to be distracted about by sharing the news of the baby and blowing up the kitchen.
She winced at the thought.

Hannah went back outside and took another look at the tomatoes. Judging the coming weather by the color of the sunrise, she decided they had to be done today, whatever her feelings about the cooker. Her mom had often moved up their scheduled wash day in response to a red sunrise. And this sunrise certainly qualified as red.

Hannah got her bowls from the pantry and headed for the garden. She soon abandoned her effort to calculate how much she needed for two batches of tomato juice and simply picked what was there. The ripe tomatoes were going to be wasted if she didn’t.

Halfway down the row, the tomatoes suddenly ceased. Puzzled, she moved on and found a tomato here and there but not nearly as many as there should be. Her suspicions roused, she found evidence in the moistened ground right there where she stood—bear prints with the distinct claw marks in front and wider indentations on the sides and back.

A shiver ran up Hannah’s back.
The bear had been right here! Its huge furry body had lumbered down this row of tomatoes, sampling them as it went.

She gathered courage to check further down the row, all the time wondering if the bear was still around. The protection of the log cabin seemed far away. She held panic at bay, though, figuring grizzlies had enough sense not to come out in the daylight.

The tomatoes reappeared a few plants down, and Hannah finished filling the bowl. She decided she had enough to can and returned to the front yard, where she set up the strainer and began to work.

It was a messy job. The tomato juice splashed on her apron no matter how carefully she worked. Still, she continued to mash the tomatoes through the strainer, adding salt from memory to the mixture.

When the jars were filled, she carefully set them in the cooker. She tightened the lid and slid the cooker onto the hot part of the stove. With skepticism she eyed the gauge, which seemed to be working, and then stepped out of the kitchen while the cooker heated up. Glancing in every few minutes, she watched the pressure rise to eleven pounds. She then quickly slid the cooker off the hot area.

For the next fifteen minutes, she made quick trips back and forth between the kitchen door and the stove, rushing in and out to make sure the pressure stayed at eleven pounds. Finally, with a deep sigh of relief, she moved the cooker completely off the heat. The point of danger over, Hannah stayed in the kitchen. When the pressure had gone down completely, she undid the top with a gentle pop, and a small cloud of steam rose.

While the cans cooled on the kitchen table, she repeated the process and still had tomatoes left. Hannah wanted to quit now but decided instead to press on. She figured Jake would understand if they had only leftover casserole for supper.

When he got home, Jake found her happy with her accomplishments. Rows of red tomato juice jars lined the kitchen counter behind her. Every so often a jar lid would pop softly as it sealed. Soon the whole batch would be sealed and ready to store.

“Our winter stash,” she told Jake as she let her joy wash away her weariness.

“You must have canned all day,” he said, obviously impressed. “Why didn’t you take a break from yesterday?”

“I think it might rain tomorrow. I didn’t want to be searching for wet tomatoes in the mud.”

“It will rain,” Jake said, surprised. “The boss said so. But how did you know?”

“The sunrise was red.”

“I guess it was,” he said. “I didn’t notice. We’re not even going to work tomorrow. That’s how certain Mr. Wesley is.”

“So what will you do tomorrow, then?”

“Maybe I can talk to the game warden about the bear.”

“Good news.” Hannah gave him a smile and a quick kiss. “Mr. Brunson stopped by this morning. He was going to talk to the warden today. He took a picture of what the bear did to his hog and wanted to show it to the warden.”

“That is good news,” Jake said as he sat down at the kitchen table. Knowing he’d want supper soon, she gave him another kiss, pulled the wrapper off the leftover casserole, and then opened the oven door.

“Hope you’re happy with leftovers.”

“That’s fine,” he said, grinning. “A man could almost live on kisses. Did Mr. Brunson say if he’d let us know what he found out?”

“He said he’d stop by when you were home if he had news.”

“Hopefully it’s good news. Guess I’ll wash up,” Jake said and disappeared in the direction of their small bathroom, its water flow, like that of the kitchen, fed by the pressure from the spring.

Moments later Hannah heard Jake pump air into the gas lantern they used for evening light. To keep expenses down, they used gas only in the evening and only in the living room. The kerosene lamps were used otherwise. That had been Hannah’s idea, but she doubted whether it actually saved that much.

Jake never complained, though. He seemed to like the routine. He came in and hung the lantern on the center ceiling nail of the living room before he sat down to read. In the kitchen, Hannah continued to set the table by the light of the kerosene lamp.

Minutes later she called out, “It’s ready,” and Jake came quickly to the table.

The weariness of the day swept over her again as they bowed their heads to pray.

After supper Mr. Brunson stopped in as promised.

“The game warden said he’d come by tomorrow,” he reported. “I don’t know what he’ll do, but he looked at my pictures.”

“Hopefully something will be done then,” Jake said. “I’ll be home tomorrow. So maybe that will help—if the game warden comes.”

“He’d better, but who knows. Goodnight, then,” Mr. Brunson said and turned to leave.

That night the noises from the bear outside were even more pronounced. Perhaps it was emboldened by the rain that fiercely drenched the log walls of the cabin.

Hannah lay in bed unable to ignore the troubling sounds until Jake finally got up and yelled out the front door.

“That should do it,” Jake said, his voice weary as he climbed back into bed.

Apparently it did because for the rest of the night they heard nothing but silence.

Seven

The rain was still coming down when Hannah and Jake awoke the next morning. Because Jake had planned to stay home, the alarm had not been set. Unable to sleep in and after a few tosses and turns, Jake said, “I can’t sleep.” He propped himself up on his elbows, briefly looked around the dark room, and then got out of bed and dressed.

“Me neither,” Hannah agreed but made no move to get up.

Jake left the room, and in a few moments, Hannah heard Jake light the gas lantern and the hiss of the lantern in the living room.

With a groan, Hannah halfheartedly got out of bed. Jake would be hungry and anxious for breakfast.

As she walked into the living room from the dark bedroom, Hannah squinted, unable to focus for a minute. The day was gloomy. There was no doubt about that. But with Jake home, perhaps the house would stay more cheerful. Some days Hannah felt lonely after spending all day alone in the house, but soon the little one would be here. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and smiled at Jake, who was sitting on the couch.

“Will we have breakfast soon?” Jake asked hopefully.

“Yes,” she said, squinting again from the bright light. “Do you want anything different since you’re home?”

“No,” he said, his nose in a magazine, “just the usual.”

Hannah didn’t know if all men were as unimaginative as Jake when it came to food, but she decided a rainy morning called for something special. If nothing else, it would serve to cheer herself a little.

“I’ll make some bacon,” she said, remembering the special breakfasts her mother prepared at home. Jake glanced up and nodded but went on reading.

“Will you bring some bacon in from the springhouse?” she asked.

“Sure,” Jake said and then hesitated, seeing the rain outside. “You really think we need to have bacon?”

“Yes,” Hannah said. Then she stopped by the kitchen opening as the thought occurred to her for the first time. “Jake, what if the bear got into the springhouse? Maybe that’s what it’s after.”

“It’s likely,” Jake allowed. He then set aside his magazine and took his raincoat from the small closet by the front door. “It can’t get in, though. I built it strong enough,” Jake said more to himself than to Hannah.

“How do you know?” Hannah asked. “This is a grizzly.”

“I know,” he said, his face sober. “I’ll check, but I really don’t think it could get in.”

True to his word, Jake was back in the house quickly, a grin on his face. “That’s what it was after, all right. It didn’t get in, but there were big claw marks on the logs.”

“You think we should tell the game warden about this?”

“I suppose—if he comes out.” Jake sounded skeptical. “It probably won’t do any good, though.”

“No, I suppose not,” Hannah said, taking the bacon from him and disappearing into the kitchen. With the fire lit in the wood stove, she had breakfast soon on its way to the table.

Afterward, Jake did look pleased with his breakfast, and Hannah had to ask, “Did you like it?”

“Good as Mom’s,” Jake grinned.

Hannah relaxed at the compliment. “So what are you planning to do today?”

“Book work, maybe,” he said.

“The checkbook is balanced,” Hannah said, glad to have done it before he could get to it.

“I know,” he said, nodding. “Just looking at my—” He paused briefly, caught his mistake, smiled, and then continued,
“Our
financial situation.”

“We’re making do,” Hannah assured him, “but just barely. The bank payment on the house takes such a large chunk each month.”

“How else could we have done it?”

“Rented maybe,” Hannah said. “This is such a nice little cabin, though, dear and all.”

“Reasonable too,” Jake reminded Hannah, “for this area. It was quite a deal. Both Steve and Betty thought so.”

“I know,” Hannah said, “and I do like it here.”

“We’ll make it somehow,” he said, sighing and getting up from the table, “though I don’t quite know how.”

Hannah cleaned the kitchen while the rain dripped heavy on the windowpane and Jake busied himself at their little desk in the living room. Jake had insisted he make the entire desk by himself. Hannah wasn’t really surprised that he was so good at woodworking. Jake was good at a lot of things.

The top was a plank of a large log, sawn in half, sanded smooth, and carefully varnished. For legs, Jake used hickory wood with the cut knots showing their full glory. On the right side, two slabs of log formed the vertical frame for the drawers, which slid on wooden slides, softened by stick-on cloth gliders Jake purchased at the hardware store in Libby.

After some figuring, Jake said, “We’re still making it okay.”

Hannah said nothing. She wanted Jake to enjoy the moment without her input.
He deserves success,
she thought but felt a sorrow gather around her heart. She couldn’t help but wonder,
Would our efforts be better spent back in Indiana where Jake would get paid for the real value of his work? Here, it seems, there is a lot of work but he gets paid less than what I know my dad makes. Practically speaking, a move might be in our best interests.
But then Hannah pushed her thoughts aside and concentrated on the kitchen.

By midmorning, the rain slacked off, and Jake was ready to venture outdoors. At that same time, Mr. Brunson drove his truck up to the front of the cabin. Along with him was a dark green, clearly marked state vehicle.

“Mr. Rogers,” Mr. Brunson said, introducing the officer when Jake and Hannah stepped outside. “Mr. and Mrs. Byler.”

“So I hear you’ve been having bear trouble,” the young officer said.
He definitely looks like a game warden,
Hannah thought. His uniform was a little torn down by his ankle, but when he stepped forward and shook hands with Jake, his grip was strong, and his courtesy nod in her direction was polite.