A Dream for Hannah (Hannah's Heart 1) Read online

  Peter’s immediate family, his father, mother, two brothers, and three sisters, rose from their front row seats and gathered around for their last goodbyes. More than a thousand people waited patiently for whatever time was needed by the family.

  The bowed shoulders and tears of Peter’s family were not what startled Hannah. This was a common enough sight among the Amish. It was the English girl who rose with them to stand around Peter’s casket. Hannah—seated to the right of her mother—hadn’t noticed her before.

  There was only one explanation for why a nonfamily member would accompany the family at these last moments. He or she would have to be either engaged or a longtime steady of the departed. Before Hannah’s shocked eyes stood Alice, her hospital roommate. Alice stood with Peter’s family around the casket.

  All morning no tears had gotten past the numb coldness of Hannah’s body. Now the sight of Alice caused the dam to break. She sobbed silently until her shoulders were shaking.

  Kathy looked ready to take Hannah’s hand and lead her outside lest she distract the family at this tender moment. Already several heads had turned in their direction. Kathy squeezed Hannah’s hand, and Hannah managed to choke back the sobs.

  Somehow they got through the moment until the family found their seats again. The ushers then formed lines to move the people out to prepare for the trip to the graveside service. Hannah found herself able to get to her feet, but as they left the house, the tears began again.

  Roy noticed Hannah’s distress from across the room on the men’s side, and he headed immediately for the horse and buggy. He hitched up and pulled the buggy in line, and they were soon on their way home with the still weeping Hannah in the backseat.

  Eleven

  Surrounded by the majestic mountain ranges of northwestern Montana, the Greyhound bus pulled hard in the curves as black smoke poured out of its tail pipe. Jake sat in the back, his regular seat for three days now. At the last stop, while seated in the restaurant with his straw hat on the table beside him, he realized he had to make a decision soon. Enough time had been spent on this bus. Enough troubles had muddled through his head, and only taking action could bring back a feeling of sanity.

  Back in the bus, the memories flooded his mind, memories he wished to forget—summers in the hay field, autumns setting the oat shocks until his arms burned, mornings getting up at five to milk, and, of course, memories of Eliza.

  He let his head rest against the back of the seat. The whine of the motor, as it tackled another steep incline, barely registered with him. He could only think of Eliza. In the summer, her face turned bronze from her work outside on the farm. In winters it turned a golden blush—softer but as beautiful a face as he had ever seen.

  He had never looked at another girl after meeting Eliza. There was simply no need. She was perfect. Her smile left him dizzy. Yes, Eliza was the one girl for him.

  But now he had to struggle to force his thoughts of her to cease. He forced himself to look at the mountains passing by. He gazed at the glorious splendor, but it was all in vain. No mountains, however awesome, could compete with the memory of Eliza.

  Yet, there was a chance, he told himself, if he could only find a way to forget her now. And that would mean a new start. And so he had boarded the Greyhound and would simply go until he figured it was time to stop. His ticket was good for fifteen days of bus travel, for wherever he wanted to go. But this was it. He would get off at the next town. Perhaps there he could find his new start and relief from his pain.

  Surely a town would appear soon. He glanced out the window as the smatter of houses thickened. Where am I? He quickly pulled the map of Montana out of his backpack and searched. He hadn’t been paying attention, and so he couldn’t be sure where he was on the map.

  The Greyhound slowed as more houses appeared, sputtered with one more valiant effort, and then leveled off. This was obviously a main street of some town of which he had missed the name. He saw a few passengers in rows ahead of him get their things together. They clearly knew where they were.

  When the bus pulled up to the station, several passengers got off. So did Jake, leaving his straw hat on the seat.

  At the bottom step, he paused. There may be Amish communities even in Montana. He might need the hat after all. He made his way back through the bus and squashed the hat vigorously onto his head. This might be a new life for him, but he would not leave his old life entirely behind—only the memory of Eliza Brunstetter.

  He stood and looked around for the name of the town. Somewhere on the building there ought to be a name. His eyes found it quickly, and he spoke the word out loud, “Libby.” What a strange name for a town, but it would have to do. His mind was finally made up.

  Resolutely he picked up his backpack and headed for the depot.

  At the ticket counter, the attendant was very helpful. “The Sandman Motel,” he said, “is the best place to stay. Are you staying long?”

  Jake nodded and then asked, “Any jobs available in the area?”

  “Well, now,” the attendant said, “about the best place to start would be the Forest Service. The Kootenai National Forest is close by. They are always looking for adventurous people. You look like you might be up for an adventure.”

  He grinned weakly. “I don’t know about that, but I will need a job. Where is this Forest Service office?”

  “Right down on highway 2, going south out of town. You’ll come to the motel first and then the Forest Service office building.”

  “Can I walk there?” he asked.

  “Sure. It’s not that far.”

  “Suits me,” Jake said. “Thanks for the help.”

  Jake felt good about his decision. In fact, he began to laugh a little. Who would have thought that it would be in Montana when he could laugh again. With brisk steps he turned south as directed. To his right, across the plain where the town was situated, there rose those majestic mountains, their heights soaring skyward. He paused for a long look. This certainly wasn’t the flat farmlands of Iowa. Somehow those mountains called to him.

  Guided by the sign’s gaudy bright letters, Jake easily found the Sandman Motel. The West was definitely different, he decided. Inside, his feet jerked to a halt at the giant grizzly bear head mounted on the wall. The mouth was wide open. Its white teeth were exposed in an angry snarl.

  The man behind the counter laughed. “New in the area, I take it.”

  Jake nodded. “That I am. How much per night to stay here?”

  The man quoted him the rate, a number he thought was too high.

  “What are your weekly rates?” he asked.

  The man shook his head.

  “I’ll take a room for one night, and then we’ll see from there.”

  “Sign here,” the manager said after he handed back the paperwork, “and write your license plate number here.”

  “No car,” he said. “Came in on the Greyhound.”

  “Just your name, then.”

  For a moment he hesitated. Then, glancing down, he signed his name slowly on the indicated line—Jake Byler.

  “So where is the Forest Service office?” Jake asked after the man handed him the key.

  “Just down the block. Can’t miss it.”

  Jake nodded his thanks. “Think I’ll go up and see them once I get settled in.”

  “The best of luck to you, then. They’re looking for young men this time of the year.”

  “That’s what I heard.” Jake picked up his backpack. “Thanks again.”

  “No problem. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “I’ll do that,” Jake said and went out the door to find his room. The hotel room was nothing fancy, but it would do. He opened the closet door and hung up his few items of clothing. Then he set off for the Forest Service office.

  “Most certainly, young man,” the smiling, uniformed Forest Service representative said. “We do have a few immediate job openings if you’re willing to do lonely work.”

  “I’
m willing. What’s the job?” Jake asked. “Would it by any chance be on those mountains?” He pointed west out the window toward the range of peaks topped with snow.

  “Oh, the Cabinet Mountains?” The uniformed man grinned. “You do want loneliness, don’t you? Well, at present there’s a position open on our eastern ridge fire lookout post. Almost to the top of the mountain…nice cabin there. As long as you work there, it can be yours. We rent them out in the off fire season.”

  “Sounds good,” he nodded. “How do I apply for the job?”

  “No questions about pay?” The representative lifted his eyebrows.

  “No. I’ll take the job,” Jake said.

  “Not so fast,” the representative said, laughing. “All applicants have to fill out an application. Fill this out,” he said, handing Jake a clipboard with official forms attached, “and we’ll go from there.”

  Jake took the clipboard with him, pulled the pen out from the top, and found a seat by the front door. Carefully he wrote his name on the top of the application. When it came to his former occupation, he wrote in farmer. When he was asked for the phone number of the closest living relative, he wrote in the number of the Sandman Motel and a name from home. He hoped the man wouldn’t notice.

  He handed in the completed form, and the representative took it with a smile. “Well, this looks great. We’ll need to take your measurements for a uniform. Let me process this—we have to do a background check on you—then come back tomorrow, and you should be all set. We’ll give you some basic training, and in a few days you should be on your post. Where are you staying?”

  “The Sandman Motel.”

  “Write the room phone number down, please.”

  He copied it onto the paper thrust toward him and carefully kept his eyes from the completed form beside him. If the Forest Service representative noticed the same numbers on each paper, he chose not to mention it.

  Kathy woke Hannah the next morning at the usual time. The girl’s mood was still subdued, but she seemed a bit better. But was she ready to resume a normal life?

  Hannah seemed to anticipate the question. “I can do breakfast, Mother, just like always,” she said without any emotion.

  “Are you sure? I can manage without you for a few mornings. You’ve been through a lot.”

  “No, I want to help,” Hannah said. She took her apron out of the closet in the hall and fell into the regular routine of breakfast preparation. She heated the water for oatmeal while Kathy fried the bacon. As soon as there was enough grease from Kathy’s pan, Hannah heated the egg skillet.

  Kathy glanced at Hannah more than once and then let it go. With her doubts pushed aside, Kathy proceeded with the day’s work, occasionally and silently checking on Hannah. She seemed to still be a bit numb and performed her tasks as if she felt nothing.

  By evening Hannah’s dullness began to worry Kathy. Tears were one thing, but the silence that hung over her daughter, like the ice from a glacier, troubled her even more.

  After everyone had gone to bed, she brought up the subject with Roy. “Hannah’s not doing well. She just walks around like her world has ended.”

  “What do you think we should do?” he said as he set his Bible aside.

  Kathy sighed. “I might try talking with her some more, but I’m afraid I won’t get anywhere. She’s lost in her own world, a world of guilt for something that really wasn’t her fault at all.”

  “At least try,” Roy suggested. “It’s really strange that she’s taking it so hard. I know she shouldn’t have snuck out with him, but it was only once. That is, if that was the truth.”

  “You’re not doubting her, are you?” Kathy asked.

  Roy sighed. “Let’s just say, I have no reason to doubt her…that I know of. I haven’t heard anything…talk and such. If she had gone out with him, someone would surely have seen them.”

  “They could have stayed away from people,” Kathy said. “Surely she’s not lying to us?”

  “The only thing that makes me wonder is the ruckus the few weeks before. Shep did a lot of barking. Maybe something was going on. Even then, that’s hardly enough to get so deeply attached to a boy.”

  “Maybe she just fell hard for him,” Kathy said. “But I still think guilt is at the bottom of this…that and her lost love. And I don’t mean the boy…her idea of love.”

  “Could be,” Roy agreed. “But guilt? Why is she feeling guilty? She barely knew the boy. She talked to him at the hospital and once in town. Then she sneaks out with him—once that we know of. And then she did the right thing when he wanted to take liberties with her. How can that cause such intense guilt?”

  “I have no idea. It’s beyond me, really. I just know the girl is troubled and we need to give her some help.”

  “We can pray,” Roy said as he reached for his Bible. He opened the pages, found the passage he wanted, and read it out loud, “Call unto me, and I will answer thee, and shew thee great and mighty things, which thou knowest not.”

  “You think that He has an answer for us?” Kathy asked.

  “I think we ought to believe that God will do what He says He will do.”

  “Well, let’s call on Him then,” Kathy said.

  Roy nodded. “Yes, we can do it now in prayer, but let’s do it during the day whenever we feel the burden to do so. God is not restricted to set times of prayer.”

  Kathy nodded in agreement as she knelt by the couch. Roy did the same by his recliner.

  Twelve

  When, by the end of the week, Hannah was still not herself, Kathy decided it was time for a long talk. Miriam had taken the buggy into town, Isaac was outside choring, and Emma was in school. The wash was on the line, flapping slightly in the mid-morning breezes.

  Hannah had helped with the household chores as she usually did but seemed emotionally numb. Between the two of them, the house settled into silence.

  “We need to talk,” Kathy said as she pulled two chairs up to the kitchen table.

  “I don’t want to talk, Mom,” Hannah said, her voice flat. “It won’t do any good.”

  Kathy ignored her. “We have to start somewhere.” She paused, uncertain how to start. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

  Hannah’s voice was still flat as she said, “Just dead inside, I guess. I’m to blame for Peter’s death. I know I am.”

  “No,” Kathy protested. “It was wrong for you to sneak out, but it wasn’t your fault Peter drove away too fast. He did that on his own.”

  Hannah hung her head, but Kathy saw no sign of any tears.

  “You weren’t out with him more than you told us…were you?” Kathy asked.

  Hannah shook her head.

  “You’re sure?”

  Hannah nodded this time.

  “Then I just don’t understand why you’re taking this so hard,” Kathy said. “It’s so strange to me.”

  “It’s also my dream,” Hannah said in a monotone, not looking up.

  Deep in her own thoughts, Kathy almost missed this explanation but glanced up when she realized what Hannah had said.

  “Your dream? You dreamed he would die?”

  Hannah shook her head. “My dream of what love would be like. If I hadn’t had it, I wouldn’t have gone out with him, and Peter would still be alive.”

  “But,” Kathy said and then paused, “a lot of people have dreams of what love is like.”

  “Do their dreams get people killed?” Hannah asked.

  “No,” Kathy said, “of course not.”

  “Then why did mine?”

  “Tell me about this dream,” Kathy said.

  Hannah didn’t know how to begin. Her eyes, already clouded over, became even darker.

  Kathy waited.

  In the silence, Hannah finally spoke, “I read this poem about love.”

  Kathy raised her hand to stop her. “Hold it right there. A poem—you read a poem. Can you get me the poem so I know what you’re talking about?”

  “Yes,”
Hannah said and rose to run upstairs to her room. She returned quickly and gave the piece of paper to her mother.

  Kathy read it slowly.

  “Well,” she ventured when she was finished, “there’s really nothing wrong with it. Idealistic, yes, but we all want someone to love us like this. What happened after the poem?”

  Hannah looked relieved that her poem had survived her mom’s scrutiny. She took a deep breath. “I then started thinking of who could fit this love that I wanted.”

  “You mean who could give it to you?”

  Hannah shrugged. “Something like that. Mostly who it could be.”

  “And you came up with Peter?”

  Hannah stared at the wall. “Not that I just picked him. I had feelings for him—feelings that seemed to be what the poem was talking about. So I was certain he was the one.”

  “So you think that if you hadn’t had the dream, you wouldn’t have snuck out with him?”

  Hannah nodded. “I would have listened to Dad, but I thought the dream must have been right and Dad was wrong.”

  “Love between a man and a woman is wonderful,” Kathy admitted. “We just have to put right and wrong first…before our feelings about love. You must remember that.”

  “I don’t want to dream anymore,” Hannah stated simply, still without any emotion.

  “You must wait and let God bring you the right person,” Kathy continued.

  “I suppose so,” Hannah said, her voice indifferent. “Following the dream didn’t do me any good. I don’t want to feel that way again.”

  “I don’t think that’s the right attitude either,” Kathy protested. “Love between a married man and woman has many wonderful feelings.”

  “It’s more trouble than good,” Hannah said, a little emotion creeping into her voice.

  Kathy decided the conversation had gone far enough in this direction. “What about your relationship with God. Are you bitter toward Him?”