A Dream for Hannah (19 page)

Hannah froze. In her sheer panic, she was unable to even drop her gaze, yet she knew she must control herself. This was church. Everyone could see her, and a strange girl in a strange church especially couldn’t cause a scene.

This
couldn’t
be
Peter. She forced her eyes to look to the floor. Who then was it? Could it be his brother? She must know, and to know she must look again. Hannah raised her eyes slowly. With her heart beating wildly, she found his face again in the sea of boys and men, still visible over the hefty man’s shoulder.

He was in the middle of a new lead, his face intent and focused. She stared for a moment, then slowly turned back to the songbook, and tried to resume her composure. It wasn’t Peter or his brother. Her mind had played tricks on her.

Older by a year at least, he looked more somber. Peter’s face never looked like that. The hair was much the same color, the outline of the face similar, yet the tilt of the head was different, and his jawline was more pronounced. Other differences became evident as she dared sneak another glance at him. He had the same wild good looks, though, and that was enough to unnerve her.

What a
dummkopf
I am
, Hannah told herself.
This isn’t Peter. There will never be another Peter. I must remember who I am and what I’ve learned. I must not dream about anyone again.
Her eyes firmly fixed on the floor, she didn’t raise them again until the ministers filed down from upstairs and the preaching began.

Jake had the distinct impression that someone watched him while he led out during the praise song. Being asked to lead the song as a visitor was not that unusual, but surely some people would wonder. Whatever the scrutiny, they would assume by his clothing and bearing that he was a member from some Amish church and thus qualified to lead out. Also he had arrived in Bishop Nisley’s buggy, which would help. In any event, Jake decided he wouldn’t worry about it. The request had been made, and he would comply and lead out in the singing. He had done so frequently at his home church.

Eliza had always told Jake that his voice was nice. That was the only thing that bothered him now, but he pushed the memory aside. She was not here, and he was determined that he would not be haunted by his memories of her.

Jake started another line and felt somehow that the watcher was not just a curious local. The intensity of the interest he felt was too much for that. Jake wanted to look around and see who this was. Yet, if he looked around during the middle of the song, it might break his concentration. Instead, he kept his mind on the page in front of him, keeping the rhythm and timing of the song in his head. The last line of the song would come soon enough, and then he could look.

He gave his all to the final lines. With its haunting, stirring cry, the last line of the last stanza pulled at one’s soul. It was as if the agony of a martyr’s impending death and final victory were called out for all to hear.

As the last note died away and as he settled onto a more comfortable spot on the bench, Jake allowed his eyes to lift and scan the room. He could see no one around who might have caused the sensation of being watched. All eyes seemed focused on the floor. The big broad back and suspenders of one of the locals were directly in front of him. To his left and right were the young girls, but none of them were old enough to have expressed what he felt.

That was when the local man shifted his position again. This time he stood up to take his son outside. The boy cried as if in pain and obviously needed to be taken outside lest his cries disturb the service. As the man stood, Jake saw what might have caused his feeling of being watched. Her hair was black, her skin delicate, her appearance cultured, her face somber, and her eyes were directed to the floor. What struck him the most was that this girl was beautiful but not anything like Eliza.

Jake wished she would look up and then hoped she wouldn’t.
This is all wrong,
he told himself. He would just end up comparing this girl to Eliza. He wanted none of this, and yet…why was he drawn to her? He had no answer.

Finally, he decided he didn’t want to know and turned his attention to the next song, which had just been announced. Girls would simply not be on his list of things to be concerned with, beautiful or not.
There is a summer of work in front of me. Why should I ever trust a girl again? Just because she’s attractive? An ugly one might be better,
he thought bitterly and joined in with the song.

“I forgot to tell you we usually leave early,” Betty whispered to Hannah right after the noon meal of peanut butter sandwiches, jam, pickles, and coffee.

“Sure,” Hannah said and followed Betty to the washroom where they found their bonnets and shawls in the pile of women’s wraps.

Hannah held the washroom door for Betty as they went outside and waited at the end of the board sidewalk till Steve pulled up in the surrey.

“The buggies look the same as at home,” Hannah said.

“Oh, I suppose you’re a little home-sick, aren’t you?” Betty asked, her voice sympathetic.

“Yes, but not too much. I surprise myself,” Hannah tried to laugh. There were actually worse aches in her heart than homesickness, but she tried hard to keep the pain off her face.

In the backseat of the buggy with Kendra and two of the children, who chatted merrily away about the day, Hannah almost could forget about Peter and that boy who had looked like him. Betty, however, didn’t plan to leave the subject of Hannah’s homesickness alone.

“Did you see anyone? Some boy perhaps…who reminded you of home?” Betty asked. She turned around from the front seat and gave Hannah a hopeful smile.

Steve chuckled. “Don’t you women think about anything else?”

Hannah blinked hard and tried to smile.
How does Aunt Betty know?

Betty noticed Hannah turn pale and raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Hannah, are you feeling okay?” she asked.

Hannah simply nodded. There was no way she would tell Betty about Peter or his look-alike with the wonderful voice.

“She’s tired, Mommy,” Kendra offered as an explanation.

“Are we working you too hard?” Betty asked.

“No,” Hannah said and laughed heartily this time. The thought of being overworked at Betty’s place was ridiculous. “Guess it’s just, you know, my first time in a new place.”

Hannah didn’t think Betty looked convinced. Likely she would bring the subject up later.

“So, did you get to talk to all the visiting men?” Betty asked Steve.

“Mostly,” he said. “It was just good to have a visiting minister here. Ours are fine, but having others brings a fresh perspective, especially if they’re from one of the established communities.”

“I like our young church,” Betty said.

“I do too,” he agreed rather quickly. “I guess we don’t have the problems some of them do.”

There were a few minutes of silence, and then Hannah took a deep breath and gathered her courage. “Who was the boy who led the praise song?”

“I don’t know,” Betty said. “That’s the first time I saw him. Do you know him, Steve?”

“No,” Steve said, “he came with the bishop, and so he must have some stability. His name’s Jake, Jake Byler, I was told. Beyond that no one seemed to know anything about him.”

In the backseat, Hannah felt great relief flow over her. She would not have to see the boy every Sunday while she was here. He was also a visitor.

As they pulled in the driveway, Hannah felt Betty’s eyes on her. She glanced up and smiled sweetly, but Betty had that look in her eye her mom always had when something didn’t seem right to her. Clearly Betty was determined to get to the root of the matter.

Seventeen

It was already ten o’clock, and Betty was walking slowly out to the mailbox. The morning was well on its way and promised clear skies and warmth. Hannah had the first two horses out on the trail with what looked like competent riders.

Betty was amazed at how fast Hannah had caught on to how she wanted the riding stable run. She had already known how to saddle a horse, of course. The rest she had picked up quickly. Now Betty was sure the summer would be a good one for all of them, and they could certainly put the extra money to good use.

As she neared the mailbox, the thought crossed her mind,
Why did Kathy really send Hannah out here?
The thought had been in the back of her mind for a while. She paused and glanced toward the barn. Betty knew Kathy and how she thought. There was often a deeper reason than the one given—that it would do Hannah good to spend the summer in Montana. To send her daughter so far away, the reason had to be a good one. Betty determined then and there she would find out that reason, especially after yesterday. Hannah had acted so strangely on the buggy ride home.

Betty turned her concentration to the mail. Betty reached for the envelopes and held the letters up to the sunlight.
Here’s one for me from Kathy, one for Hannah from her mother, and one for Hannah from
—
that’s strange, it doesn’t say.

Puzzled, Betty turned the letter over. There was nothing written on the back, only their address on the front with Hannah’s name on top. The writing was distinctly male with clumsy scrawls—possibly a young man.

So there is more to this than I was told.
The conclusion seemed certain.
That’s why Hannah is out here. She’s running away from a boy.
Betty’s mouth fell open at the implications. Maybe Kathy and Roy don’t want her seeing him and are hoping she will forget him with a summer out West.
That must be it.
That’s why Hannah refused to show any interest in the boys yesterday. She’s being true to her love. Betty smiled at the thought.
My, and I’m in the middle of it. Oh, I have to be true to Kathy and Roy’s wishes, but this is going to be hard.

She held the letters tenderly.
Oh, what words might be in a little letter like this
—
dreams of love and yearning to see each other?
She shivered.
Stop it, you goose,
she told herself.
You have to be on your sister’s side of things. Hannah must not see this letter.

Betty walked quickly back to the house but couldn’t decide. Should she throw the letter away? Perhaps she should hide it until Hannah’s feelings had begun to weaken. Perhaps her affection for this forbidden boy would decrease.
Oh, it’s too much for a poor soul like me. I’m just a simple goose. What am I to do?

Hannah solved the problem when she appeared suddenly in front of Betty. In her fixation on the letters, Betty hadn’t been paying attention to her surroundings. Now there was no time to hide anything. If she slipped the suspicious envelope behind her back or into her pocket, Hannah would see.

“Mail!” Hannah exclaimed. “Anything from Mom?”

Betty made one last desperate attempt and said, “Did you send the other two horses off yet?”

“Yes, they just mounted and left.” Hannah waited expectantly.

“Well, there is one for you from your mother and one for me from your mother too.”