Hannah's Journey (3 page)

Levi turned his attention to the man. “I assure you, sir, your daughter-in-law will travel in comfort and there is no reason at all for you to…”

“Our bishop has given his permission for this unusual trip,” Gunther Goodloe said in a gentle but firm tone, “and he has done so only on the understanding that our Hannah will not make this journey alone.” He smiled and shrugged as if he’d just made some observation about the inclement weather.

“I see.” He could feel Hans watching him nervously, waiting for instruction. He could see the conductor checking his pocket watch and casting impatient looks in his direction. “Well, come aboard then and let’s get you all settled in.” He waited while the three-some climbed the stairs and then turned to Hans. “Prepare my quarters for the gentleman. The two women can stay in the larger guestroom.”

“Very good, sir.” Hans knew better than to question his boss, although the question of where Levi would sleep was implicit in the look he gave his employer. He walked to the far end of the car and boarded from there. Levi was well aware that while he was giving his guests the grand tour of the viewing room, the dining room and the parlor, Hans would be organizing the staff to prepare the rooms.

Once Levi had left the ladies and Gunther Goodloe to rest before dinner in their staterooms, he let out a long sigh of relief. The older man made him nervous. Not intentionally, of course. Gunther was the epitome of polite reserve, but it was that very reserve that brought back memories Levi had thought he’d long ago laid to rest. Memories of his late father—a man who, like Gunther, said little in words but spoke volumes with his half smile and expressive pale blue eyes. And his grandfather, whose strict household where Levi had lived after his parents died had been the deciding factor in his decision to run away.

“Mr. Harmon?”

Levi had been so lost in the past that he had not heard the young widow come in. Of course, even within the quiet of his luxurious car, there was always the steady rumble of the train moving over the tracks. He
fixed a smile on his face and turned to greet her. “I trust everything is to your liking, Mrs. Goodloe?”

“It’s very…” She hesitated, studying the pattern of the Oriental rug that carpeted the combination dining and sitting room. She drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes for an instant, then met his gaze directly. “I’m afraid that the accommodations simply won’t do,” she said. “Not at all. My family and I simply cannot stay here.”

“W
e are on a moving train, Mrs. Goodloe.” His head was throbbing. Would these people never be satisfied?

“I appreciate that,” she replied without a hint of the sarcasm he’d infused into his comment. “I only thought that my father-in-law could perhaps share whatever accommodations Mr. Winters uses.”

“Mr. Winters? Hans?”

“Yes. I am thinking that his accommodations are… plainer and would be more comfortable for my father-in-law.”

“And where would you and Miss Goodloe stay?”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” she admitted. “It’s just that Gunther—Mr. Goodloe—seemed troubled by his surroundings. He’s of the old school and…”

“You and your sister-in-law are not?” Levi felt the twitch of a smile jerk at one corner of his mouth. He could see that she had not considered this in her zeal to assure her father-in-law’s comfort, but after a moment she offered him a tentative smile.

“We can perhaps make do if you would agree to certain minor changes that would allow Pleasant to feel more at ease.”

“What kinds of changes?”

“If we might have some plain muslin cloth—perhaps some linens that are plain, we could cover some of the more…” Her voice trailed off.

Levi closed his eyes in a vain attempt to get control of his irritation and found himself thinking about the room he had given the women for the night. The cabin had ample room for two. A sofa upholstered in Parisian brocade that folded out into a bed and an upper berth. Above the cabin door hung a painting from his collection in a thick gilded frame. The dressing table was stocked with a variety of toiletries in elegant crystal bottles, each set into a specially designed compartment to keep it secure when the train was in motion. The lighting in the room came from wall sconces that sported laughing cherubs and the floor was outfitted with a thick sheepskin rug. For people like the Goodloe family, he could see that the place might come across as anything but “plain.”

“Could we not do the same for Mr. Goodloe in my room?”

“I suppose. It’s just that he’s beginning to think that we made a mistake in accepting your kind and generous offer.” To his shock her eyes filled suddenly with tears. “Oh, Mr. Harmon, I want so much to find my son and bring him home but if my father-in-law decides we’ve made a mistake and the train stops to take on more passengers and…”

A woman’s genuine distress had always been Levi’s undoing. “Hans!”

The manservant appeared immediately. “Sir?”

“Mr. Goodloe will be bunking in with you for the duration of our trip. I apologize for any inconvenience but it’s necessary.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll see to it at once. Will there be anything else?”

“Yes, while we are at dinner, please see that Mrs. Goodloe’s stateroom is refurbished. Remove anything that shines or glitters or smacks of flamboyance. Use plain linens to make up the beds and see if you can locate a couple of those rag rugs you use at the mansion for wiping our feet inside the garden entrance to put by each bed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And cover the paintings and mirrors,” Levi added as Hans hurried off to do his bidding. “They are bolted to the walls,” he explained when he saw Hannah’s puzzled look.

“I’ll go and let the others know. May God bless you, Mr. Harmon.” She was halfway down the narrow corridor when he called her back.

“Mrs. Goodloe?”

This time her face was wreathed in a genuine and full-blown smile that took his breath away. He had intended to reassure her that her son would be found and before she knew it, she and her family would be safely back home. But the attraction that shot through him like a bolt of adrenaline before a tightrope walker steps out onto the wire for the first time made him react with the same philosophy by which he had lived his entire life.
Never let the other person believe he—or she—has won.

“I am a businessman,” he began, and saw her smile
falter slightly. “I rarely if ever do anything without expecting something in return.” The way her spine straightened almost imperceptibly and her chin jutted forward with just a hint of defiance fascinated him.

“I thought you had invited us here as your guests, sir.”

“That’s true.”

“Then what is your price?”

“I would like to know your given name and be allowed to call you by it when we are alone.”

Her lips worked as if trying to find words. Her eyes widened. And then to his delight she burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s a good one, Mr. Harmon. You had me going there for a moment.”

“I’m serious.”

She sobered. “My name is Hannah.”

“Hannah,” he repeated. “Well, dinner will be served in fifteen minutes, Hannah. And I assure you that the food will be plain enough even for your father-in-law.” He turned away, busying himself by flipping through a stack of messages Hans had left for him on the sideboard. He was aware that she remained standing in the doorway to the corridor but he refused to turn around.

“I’ll tell my family,” she said, and then added in the lowest possible tone to still be heard clearly. “Thank you, Levi.”

All the way back to her room, Hannah sent up pleas for forgiveness. From childhood on she had been known for her impish personality. But she was a grown woman now—a mother, a widow. Surely such mischievous behavior was beneath her. Levi Harmon could
have turned her away at the door of his lavish Sarasota estate. He could have thrown up his hands and informed her that Caleb’s running away was hardly his concern. He could have done so many things other than what he had done—shown her kindness. And yet the way he had strutted about just now as if he owned everything within his view—which, of course, he did—nevertheless irritated her. And there was another cause for prayer. She sometimes suffered from a lack of patience when it came to the quirks of others. Her mother had often suggested that she look on the qualities of others that frustrated her as habits beyond their control. Such people were to be pitied, not scolded, she had advised. But her mother had never met Levi Harmon who did not inspire pity on any level.

She turned the engraved silver knob of the room she was to share with Pleasant and found her sister-in-law staggering about the cabin bumping up against the furnishings as the train rocked from side to side, and yet clearly reluctant to touch anything. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut, fingers knitted together as she murmured prayers in the dialect of Swiss-German they always used in private. She was earnestly beseeching God’s mercy and deliverance from this place that was surely the devil’s own workshop.

“Pleasant?” Hannah caught her sister-in-law as the train rounded a curve. Although the woman was three years younger than Hannah’s age of thirty-two, she looked older. Her face was lined with anxiety. “It’s all going to work out,” Hannah assured her in their native tongue as she led her to the upholstered bench that was bolted to the floor in front of the dressing table.

They sat together with their backs to the mirror and
the array of bottles and jars that filled the insets on top of the ornately curved dressing table. Hannah kept her arm around Pleasant’s shoulders as they rocked in rhythm to the train’s movement. “I spoke with Mr. Harmon. He’s going to do his best to see that we are more comfortable.”

“So much temptation,” Pleasant muttered, glancing about with wild-eyed worry.

“Not if we refuse to be drawn to it,” Hannah said.

There was a soft knock at the door and Hannah got up to answer it.

“Oh, miss,” a young woman in a starched uniform exclaimed. “I thought you would be at supper and Hans said that I should…” She clutched a large bundle of plain linens to her chest.

“Let me take those,” Hannah urged, reverting to English. She engaged in the brief tug-of-war it took to persuade the woman to release them. “These will do just fine. Please thank Mr. Winters for us and thank you, as well. I’ll get started and while we’re at supper you can finish, all right?”

The maid nodded then bowed her way out of the room, closing the door behind her. Hannah immediately began covering the large full-length mirror with one of the sheets. As if in a trance, Pleasant got up and unfolded another cloth to drape over the dressing table. “I suppose we could use the bench,” she said, speaking German once again and looking to Hannah for approval.

“Absolutely,” Hannah agreed as she covered the seat’s tufted satin with a plain muslin pillow case. “We’ll leave these for the maid,” she decided as she knelt on the sofa and pulled down the upper berth. It
was made up with satin linens and a silk coverlet and Hannah suspected the sofa bed was similarly garbed.

To her surprise, Pleasant giggled. “The maid,” she exclaimed with glee.

Hannah saw her point. For two Amish women to be discussing what they could leave for the maid to finish was ludicrous. She started to laugh and soon the two of them were toppled on to the sofa holding their sides as their giggles subsided and then started all over again.

A knock at the door finally sobered them.

“Daughters?”

“Yes, Father,” Pleasant replied as both women sprang to their feet and Hannah smoothed the covers.

“Mr. Winters tells me that supper is served.”

Hannah glanced up at the taller, thinner Pleasant and straightened her sister-in-law’s prayer cap that had slipped sideways when they lay on the bed. Pleasant cupped her cheek and within the look the two women exchanged more tenderness and sisterly concern than either had felt for the other in all the years Hannah had been married to Pleasant’s brother. “Coming,” they answered in unison.

Levi’s idea of a simple supper was a three-course meal as opposed to the five-course meal his staff would normally serve. He surveyed the cold cuts, the potato salad, the dark rye bread sliced into thick wedges waiting on the sideboard. They would begin the meal with barley soup and end it with one of his cook’s delicious key lime pies. It was the last of those he would enjoy for some time, Levi suspected as he turned to see that Hans was preparing to pour a dark lager into tall glasses.

“Our guests do not indulge,” he said.

“But they are of German descent. I thought that this particular lager would…”

Levi shrugged. “Start with water and offer tea or milk.”

Hans hesitated. “For you, as well, sir?”

“Yes.” He turned as he heard the trio coming down the corridor, murmuring to each other in the Swiss-German they’d been raised to speak among their own. He wondered if it would surprise them to realize that he understood every word and decided he would leave them in the dark about that, at least for now. He didn’t want to raise their curiosity regarding his past or how he had come to learn their language. “Welcome,” he said jovially, indicating that Gunther should take one end of the table and then ushering the two women to the banquette built into the car against the windows.

In German, the woman Pleasant—who seemed to be anything but—murmured a comment about the magenta, tufted-velvet cushioning. She took her seat but did so with an expression she might have worn had she been asked to sit on a hot stove. Hannah gave him an apologetic smile and sat next to her sister-in-law.

Within seconds, a steaming bowl of soup had been served at each place and yet the three of them sat staring down at their bowls. Levi snapped open his white linen napkin and tucked it under his chin into the collar of his pristine white shirt. Still, they made no move, so he picked up his spoon.

“Shall we pray?” Gunther stretched out his hand to Pleasant who in turn took Hannah’s hand.

Dumbly, Levi stared down at Hannah’s hand extended palm-up to him and Gunther’s large work-worn palm stretching to cover the extra space from one end
of the small dining table to the other. Levi put down his spoon, stretched to meet Gunther’s rough fingers and then placed his palm on top of Hannah’s. Her head was bowed but he saw her eyes shift to focus on their joined hands.

Gunther frowned when he observed that connection but then closed his eyes and the four of them sat in silence with heads bowed for several long moments. In spite of the lengthy time allotted for a simple mealtime grace, Levi couldn’t complain. He was far too busy analyzing the sensation of touching Hannah’s palm. Her skin was smooth and warm and once, when her fingers twitched, he responded automatically by wrapping his fingers around hers. Hannah’s breath quickened but she did not glance his way.

Gunther’s head remained bowed for so long that Levi could no longer see steam rising from the soup. At last, the older man ended the prayer by looking up and reaching for his napkin. Instantly, Hannah slid her fingers from Levi’s. She busied herself unfolding her napkin and placing it across her lap, then waited for her father-in-law to take the first spoonful of soup before dipping her spoon into her bowl.

“My family and I are indebted to you, Mr. Harmon, not only for your assistance in finding my grandson, but also in respecting our ways.”

“Not at all. I should have thought about the rooms I offered and their furnishings.”

There was a period of silence broken only by the clink of sterling soup spoons on china bowls and the rhythmic churning of the train’s wheels on metal tracks.

“How is it you know of our ways?” Gunther asked
after a time. “After all, we Amish have not been in Florida for long.”

Levi saw Hannah glance at him and understood by her expression that it was a question she had wondered about as well.

“My company travels all over the Midwest and eastern states of America, sir. That includes Pennsylvania where I believe there is a large established community of Amish?”

“Several of them,” Gunther agreed and seemed satisfied with the response.

“How did you come to reside in Florida, sir?”

Gunther smiled. “My son was something of an adventurer. He and a friend had traveled to Florida during the time of their
Rumspringa.
That’s the time when…”

“I’m familiar with the tradition,” Levi said. When Hannah gave him a curious glance he added, “Isn’t that the time when parents permit—even encourage—their young people to explore the outside world before making their commitment to your faith?”