A Baby for Hannah (Hannah's Heart 3) Read online

  “It’s very outdoorsy,” Hannah said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll have to think about this.”

  “Take your time,” Sally said, motioning with her hand toward the front desk. “The receptionist will have your bill, Mrs. Byler, and make your next appointment.”

  “Thanks,” Hannah said, walking to the front and waiting until the receptionist glanced up.

  “That will be one hundred seventy-five dollars for your first visit,” she said.

  “Okay,” Hannah said, writing out the check. Thankfully there was plenty of money in the checking account, but this was still a lot. Jake wouldn’t object, and neither would she. Any money they spent on their children would be well worth it and then some.

  “Thank you,” the receptionist said, taking the check. “And your next appointment will be in six weeks. Same time?”

  “Jah,” Hannah said. “That will be just fine.”

  Twenty-Four

  Hannah listened for the sound of Jake’s buggy wheels in the driveway, glancing frequently out the kitchen window. The line of canned peaches stood on the counter, cooling in the late-day breeze. Jake wasn’t usually late, but there were plenty of reasons he could have been detained. A customer might have come in at the last minute, or he might have needed to go over the work schedule with Mr. Brunson. With the way work was picking up, either option was possible. But Jake would be home soon.

  Placing the potatoes and meat back into the oven, Hannah added a piece of wood to the stove and closed the vents a little. Walking into the living room, she glanced out the front window as Mr. Brunson’s pickup truck rattled past in a small cloud of dust. He glanced toward the house but didn’t wave. So Jake’s delay isn’t Mr. Brunson, Hannah thought.

  Walking back to the desk, she sat down and picked up the mail. She laid the copy of The Budget aside, her eyes drawn to the letter addressed to Jake. It had to be from his mother, but why hadn’t she addressed it to Jake and Hannah Byler? Jah, Jake is her son, but I’m his wife.

  Likely it meant nothing, as Jake had written to his mom, and there was no need to imagine things on top of whatever feelings might already be between Jake and his parents. It could be anything. Farmers got busy with their work, and Jake came from a large family. Considering he’d asked his parents if there was some kind of problem between their families, perhaps this letter would shed light on the subject.

  Why not open the letter and see what Jake’s mom wrote? Hannah debated the idea. Would Jake care? Hardly—and he will share the letter with me anyway. Hannah picked up the letter and then laid it back down again. There was nothing to gain from reading it now. She glanced back into the kitchen and then over at the living room clock. If Jake didn’t come soon, something would have to be done about the food.

  Hannah paused, listened again, and raced back to the window. Jah, it was Jake coming up the lane, pushing his horse hard. She ran out on the porch and then toward the barn as he pulled up there.

  “Well,” Jake said, as Hannah greeted him with a hug, “what a welcome. I take it there’s good news?”

  “Really good news. Everything is going well with the baby.”

  “That is good news!” Jake said with a big smile. “Soon you’ll be a mother—and a wonderful one at that.”

  “And you a wonderful dad.”

  “I’m sorry about being late,” Jake said, unhitching Joel. “I couldn’t resist and stopped to talk with Ben Stoll at the meeting site. They were just done setting the tent up.”

  “I saw them working on it,” she said, leading the horse out of the shafts. “So what happened? Did talking to him do any good?”

  “No, but I had to try.”

  “Did he say anything to change your mind about excommunication?”

  “Well, I’m even more convinced now that they shouldn’t be,” Jake said, taking the reins from her hands.

  “New reasons that Bishop John will understand?”

  “I hope so, but I’ll explain when I get through putting Joel in his stall and feeding both horses.”

  Hannah watched Jake disappear into the barn, his shoulders slumping. He probably didn’t even realize it, as dedicated as he was to his duty. Oh why did this have to fall on his head? Yet if Da Hah willed this, He must also be willing to give grace. And Jake needed a wife who was strong, not one who complained. A complainer would only make things worse.

  Walking quickly back to the cabin, Hannah went into the kitchen and began setting the food on the table. Thankfully it was still warm. Closing the oven door, she sat down at the table and waited. Jake came in through the kitchen doorway, giving her a warm smile before going to the wash basin. She listened to the soft splashes of water, allowing the sound to flow over her. How gut it was to have a man in the house, and a man like Jake. The sounds ceased for long moments before his slow steps came toward the table.

  “Supper looks wonderful,” Jake said, pulling out his chair and sitting down.

  “I tried to keep the food warm, as you deserve a hot supper.”

  “I’m the one who didn’t come home on time, and I’ll gladly eat your food, hot or cold.”

  He bowed his head, and she did likewise. When Hannah opened her eyes, Jake still had his head down, faint lines of weariness on his face. She watched him until he looked up and smiled sheepishly.

  “I’m just tired, I guess,” he said, reaching for the food.

  “There’s a letter from your mother on the desk.”

  “Oh!” His face brightened. “What does it say?”

  “I didn’t open it.”

  “But you could have.”

  “Perhaps, but I think you’d better. It was addressed to you only.”

  “Do you think Mom has something bad to say?”

  “Not really. I just wasn’t comfortable opening a letter not addressed to me. I don’t want to cause problems.”

  “You don’t cause problems. You know that. Mom and Dad probably just have a lot on their minds. I don’t think there’s anything going on beyond that.”

  “I hope that’s all,” Hannah replied.

  “I’m sure it is,” Jake said, taking large bites of food. “Do you want to hear about my talk with Ben Stoll?”

  “Of course. Tell me.”

  “Ben’s not backing down one bit. He still claims that the meetings are not really about the Amish, that they are about reaching the lost and dying in the world.”

  “So why is he having them here? He must know that our community might be tempted to come hear him. Especially since so many people know him.”

  “That’s what I asked him again, and he said that was actually the reason they’re beginning here. He said this is his home, and the Bible says we should start preaching in Jerusalem.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I guess the disciples began preaching in their home area of Jerusalem, and Ben is applying the same principle. Or so he thinks.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “That he’s after us.”

  “So do I.”

  “He asked us to attend again, Hannah. Ben said that if we don’t, it will be a sign to him that we’re close-minded and unwilling to entertain any ideas other than Amish ones.”

  “But I don’t think it’s close-minded to say we’re happy being Amish and don’t want to leave.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “With how you preach, Jake, even Bishop John said the Mennonite churches would snap you right up if you showed any interest.”

  “Well, not quite in those words,” Jake said, laughing. “But you don’t have to worry. We’re not leaving the Amish.”

  “Then we’re not going to the tent meetings, are we?”

  Jake chewed slowly, his eyes on his plate.

  When he didn’t answer, Hannah said, “We can’t, Jake. First, what would Bishop John say? And what about me? How could I stand going to a Mennonite tent meeting? I’ve never been to such a thing in my life. What if they deceive us just by getting us to walk in the
tent door?”

  Jake smiled. “I don’t think they’re that deceiving. And I really don’t know if we should go. I’m still thinking about it. It’s just that Ben got under my skin.”

  “Then you shouldn’t talk to him anymore. You don’t have to prove anything to Ben or Sylvia. You know what you believe, and so do I.”

  “I know, but now you see why I don’t think an excommunication would help. It would just make Ben even more sure that we’re acting out of fear. He might even get bolder than what he is now.”

  “I sure hope Bishop John agrees with you.”

  “So do I,” Jake said. “But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “I still think you’re right,” she said, stroking his hand.

  When they had finished eating, Jake rose, leaned over to kiss Hannah on the forehead, and then carried his plate to the counter.

  “Come, I’ll clean up the kitchen later,” Hannah said. “You have a letter from your mother to read.”

  Leading him by the hand, Hannah took Jake to the hickory desk and then turned to go back into the kitchen.

  “Wait!” Jake held up his hand. “Let’s read the letter together.”

  “Okay.” Hannah turned around to lean on his shoulder as he opened the letter.

  Dear Jake,

  Greetings in Christian love. We received your letter, and I am finally sitting down to answer it. It was good to hear from you, Jake, and please don’t think that we want hard feelings between us. You don’t have to apologize, as I’m sure it lays as much on our part as on yours. We haven’t done much to talk with you or to address our concerns. And perhaps this is not the place for it, but since you have written, I am assuming it is okay to share our concern now rather than later.

  When you left for Montana before you were married, our highest desire was that you stay in the Amish faith. I’m sure you were aware of that, and you seemed to respect that desire. We were then overjoyed to hear that you had made contact with an Amish church and had begun to settle down. When Hannah came along, we again saw no reason to be unhappy or to withhold our approval.

  But since then, and especially since your ordination, some matters of grave concern came to our attention. I don’t know if it was your ordination or perhaps something else that got us thinking about this, but the calling of a minister is a great and heavy one, Jake. It is the highest duty which our people can be called to. I’m sure you know this. Our faith is an old faith, having stood the test of time for over five hundred years. It is the task of an Amish minister not only to sustain and to promote the spiritual well-being of each and every member, but to sustain the well-being of the faith.

  Jake, we love you, and will always love you and Hannah. Any grandchild you give us will be welcomed into the family, as all the others have been. But it is the matter of our faith that takes first place even above family. Surely you know this and have been taught this by your bishop if we failed to do so. Now that you are a minister, this is even more important. You must not let even family come before your duty to your faith.

  It has been reported to us from very reliable sources that the Amish community to which you belong believes in proclaiming the certainty of their salvation with God. If we are wrong, then please tell us, but as you know that is not how our community believes. Nor is this the faith of many of the old Amish communities.

  It breaks our hearts, Jake, that apparently some of our Amish communities are leaving the old paths, and joining in with such a proud way of thinking. The salvation of a man’s soul belongs only to God, and only He can know if we will make it home. To say otherwise—that a man can tell God that He must save him, that we can know what only God can know, is a grievous error taught by the very churches who used to persecute us.

  You are a minister, Jake, so you know what’s in the Scriptures, how a man is saved by hope, and how hope that is seen is not hope at all. Surely you can see that? If people start saying they are saved, then there’s no longer any need to hope. That’s an awful state to be in. How will it be when they come up to the judgment seat of God, and He’s expecting them to still have hope in their hearts? But some won’t have any because they think they’re already saved. What will happen to them?

  As you can see, our hearts are troubled, and I suppose that’s what you picked up. I sure hope this hasn’t troubled Hannah, as we think she is a gut wife for you. We couldn’t have found anyone better, which makes things all the harder to understand.

  The faith is the most important thing, Jake. It must be preserved against all the temptations of the world, and against all the false teachings of those churches that would lure us into the world. Our fear is that this is just one step toward liberalism, and we so don’t want our children or our grandchildren going down that path.

  I hope I haven’t said too much, Jake.

  Please tell Hannah hello for us, and may you keep hope alive in your heart.

  Your mom, Ida Byler

  “Oh Jake,” Hannah said, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “This is so awful. I don’t want trouble with your parents.”

  “So this is what the problem is,” Jake said, leaning back in his chair. “I should have thought of this.”

  Twenty-Five

  Mr. Brunson fidgeted with his early supper, pushing the plate of half-eaten food across the table. Time was rolling by, and his heart still hurt. Slowly he rose to his feet and walked over to the front window, pausing to look out over the spread of the valley below. Why couldn’t he get his mind off Mary Keim? If joining the Amish here in Montana would have been an option, it might make sense, but going back to Indiana as Bishop John suggested was out of the question. Even for love there were limits. Perhaps the young could afford to be reckless, but he was not a youngster anymore.

  Did he dare knock on Mary Keim’s door and ask her if she would join his faith? No doubt her smile would disappear in a hurry and be replaced with what would be an enduring distrust…or worse, hostility. That would be too great a sorrow. At least now he could speak with her in passing and entertain the faint hope that God would perform a miracle.

  But did he believe that? Certainly God performed special graces for others, but would He perform one for an old man whose heart had been captured by an Amish widow? It was highly unlikely. There were many other things in the world that cried out with greater urgency for God’s attention.

  Tonight was the first night of the Mennonite tent revival. Perhaps that was something he could do. Weren’t the Mennonites some sort of cousins with the Amish? Perhaps attending the meetings would give him a new perspective on Amish ways. Jake had seemed mighty upset about the meetings, but that was because he expected his religious community to lose members.

  Mr. Brunson glanced at his watch and quickly went into the bedroom to change into his Sunday suit. Driving down the lane, he glanced at Jake and Hannah’s cabin. Everything looked quiet. Were Jake and Hannah at the meetings? Mr. Brunson laughed at the thought. That would be like asking if Daniel had willingly gone into the lions’ den.

  Turning right on the main road, Mr. Brunson passed Steve and Betty’s place. Hannah’s sister Miriam was walking in from the barn, and he honked his horn and waved. She flung up her arm in response, a big smile on her face. Now there was a sweet girl. It must run in Hannah’s family, although most of the Amish were nice. Bishop John had been nice even as he turned down his heartfelt request. That was the problem. What did one do with nice people, even when they weren’t cooperative?

  The first sight of the tent brought his foot off the gas pedal. He slowed down to make the turn into the field. His pickup bounced across the uneven ground, coming to a halt beside the other vehicles. There was no sign of a parking attendant, and already the faint sounds of singing were coming from the tent. Apparently he was a little late or the meetings were starting early.

  Opening his truck door and getting out, Mr. Brunson glanced around. As he closed the door, he noticed there were no signs of buggies in the field but a
cross the parking lot in the mall two horses with buggies were tied to light posts. A smile spread across his face. Would this be the way the Amish arrived, hiding their buggies in plain sight but not on the tent grounds?

  Ducking into the tent, an usher met him with a firm handshake and showed him to one of the seats halfway back. Apparently attendance was not very heavy. He nodded at the older couple beside him. They looked familiar, so he must have seen them around town. At least other Englisha people were here, so he wouldn’t stand out in the group of Mennonites who had come from Kalispell to support the revival effort. He looked around without craning his neck. There seemed to be no signs of any Amish.

  The song came to an end, and the song leader announced another number, adjusting the pitch. With the first note, the whole congregation joined in, filling the tent with vibrant music. At least the Mennonites knew how to sing, and they spoke in English, an improvement over the Amish services that were conducted in German.

  Perhaps he should try to join the Mennonites and attempt to lure Mary Keim into joining them. Jake and Bishop John would be greatly upset with him, but surely they wouldn’t miss one widow too much. But would Mary want to join the Mennonites? Would it be right to disturb her faith for his selfish reasons? And on what grounds could he even be assured of success? She might very well laugh at the idea or, worse, show her displeasure.

  Mr. Brunson shifted on his seat. This had all been a very bad idea. He glanced around to distract himself, catching a glimpse of Will and Rebecca with their small children seated on the other side of the tent. Why hadn’t he seen them before? Apparently one of the buggies across the road belonged to them. Jake would be upset tomorrow, but at least he had nothing to do with it. But to what Amish person did the other buggy belong?