A Dream for Hannah (14 page)

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?”

“No,” Hannah said, “just sick of myself.”

“Maybe this is an opportunity to renew your dedication to Him,” Kathy suggested. “You gave your heart to Him when you were younger. Now might be the time for a fresh commitment.”

Hannah agreed with a nod but said nothing.

“Maybe even baptism,” Kathy ventured. “What about a new—perhaps more mature—beginning with God and then with the church?”

“Do you think God wants me…after this?”

“Of course,” Kathy said. “He loves all of us.”

“Maybe if I told Him I would stop dreaming, He might forgive me. What do you think?”

Tears stung Kathy’s eyes. “You shouldn’t be thinking things like that—not at all.”

“I’m an awful person,” Hannah said. “I wanted what I wanted, and now Peter is dead.”

Kathy got up and put her arm around Hannah’s shoulder, but Hannah didn’t return her hug.

“I will tell God I am so sorry,” Hannah said, her eyes still blank. “Then He might not blame it all on Peter.”

Kathy stroked her face gently. “Hannah, you shouldn’t be thinking such things. Peter is in the hands of God. He will judge righteously. You must not think that He won’t.”

Hannah just whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Kathy held her, expecting tears to start at any moment, but they didn’t. That seemed even worse to her, but how to help her, that was the question. “God will take care of you,” Kathy said, releasing Hannah. “I’ll talk to your dad about this. Perhaps he knows what to do.”

“You don’t have to bother Dad,” Hannah said as she rose from her chair. “He has enough on his mind.”

That alarmed Kathy again, and she considered Hannah’s words as she began mixing the ingredients to make the bread.

They bumped along on the rough forest road as the jeep climbed the mountain. “It’s beautiful up here,” Jake’s escort said, his voice enthusiastic. “We’d all love it more if it weren’t so lonely.”

Jake nodded and agreed for the sake of agreement. His basic training was over, and he was in the forest green uniform ready to go to work at his outpost. His hair, though, he wore in the traditional Amish fashion. That would not change.

His escort shifted into first gear, and the jeep lurched forward again.
That’s something I wish were possible, a driver’s license,
Jake thought as they bounced along. For now he doubted he would ever veer that far from his heritage and so would have to depend on others to drive him around.

“Beautiful,” he said out loud to make conversation. Below them was the full expanse of the valley in which Libby, Montana, was located. The view cheered him like little had in weeks. Again he felt this was where he was supposed to be. He was sure of it.

“Ever been to the mountains before?” his escort asked.

“Nope,” he said.

“Where’re you from?”

“Iowa.”

“Kind of flat, right?”

He grinned. “Mostly cows and farmland.”

“You’ll like this, then.”

To this Jake nodded. As the jeep bounced violently again, his escort swerved away from the edge of a sheer drop-off.

“We’re fine,” his escort reassured him and jerked the wheel toward the other side of the mountain.

Jake only smiled, refusing to be afraid.

“I had a talk with Hannah today,” Kathy said to Roy as they settled in for the evening, the stillness of the house all around them.

Roy glanced up from his Amish newspaper. “Yes?”

“The girl is really troubled,” Kathy said. “She needs something more than what we’re giving her.”

“We’re praying,” Roy reminded her.

“It may require doing something more,” Kathy said.

“Did you find out what’s causing her sense of guilt? It still seems much too great for the circumstances.”