Читать книгу Hannah's Journey - Anna Schmidt - Страница 11

“We 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?”

“That’s right,” Gunther said.

All three members of the Goodloe family were regarding him with interest, so Levi turned the conversation back to the original topic. “So your son came to Florida and…”

“When he returned, he could talk of nothing else. The weather. The possibility of growing crops year-round. The opportunities.” Gunther shook his head and smiled at the memory. “Even after he and Hannah had married and he had joined my bakery business, he would bring it up from time to time.”

“So you just picked up and moved?” Levi directed this question to Hannah, but it was Gunther who replied.

“As I said, we were in the bakery business and one night there was a fire. We lost everything. A few years earlier his mother had died and I had remarried. My second wife was from another Amish community in another state. They did things differently there and she was having some problems settling in. My son saw it all as God’s sign that we should start over someplace else.”

“Did you buy land then in Sarasota?”

“No. We did what we knew best. My son and I opened a bakery.” Gunther looked a little wistful for a moment and murmured, “It was all seeming to work out until…”

“My husband was killed when the wagon he was driving was struck by a motor vehicle,” Hannah said softly.

“My only boy,” Gunther said, his voice quavering.

Everyone concentrated on finishing their soup, then Hans directed the removal of the soup bowls and the serving of the cold cuts and side dishes. Levi was well aware that neither of the women had contributed to the limited conversation. It was going to be a long supper. He waited until everyone had been served then turned his attention to Hannah. “Tell me about your son,” he said.

Again, the slightest frown of disapproval from the old man, but Hannah appeared not to notice—or perhaps chose to ignore it.

“I have told you that his name is Caleb. He is eleven years old though tall for his age. He has blue eyes and his hair…” She paused as she appeared to notice Levi’s hair for the first time. “His hair is like corn silk,” she murmured and quickly averted her eyes to focus on her food.

“Do you think he might have changed into clothing that is less conspicuous?”

“Perhaps.”

“Where would he get such clothing?” Pleasant asked and then immediately glanced at her father and lowered her eyes.

Hannah shrugged. “I am only guessing. I mentioned the English hat. His Amish hat was still on its peg.” Her eyes glittered with tears that Levi guessed she would be far too proud to shed in his presence. They were tears of worry and exhaustion and he had to force himself not to cover her hand with his and assure her it would all turn out for the best. For after all, hadn’t it turned out that way for him after he’d run away to join the circus when he was only a few years older than Caleb was?

“I’m sure that the boy will turn up,” Gunther said as he pushed the last of his potato salad onto his fork with the crust of his bread. “We thank you for your hospitality, sir.” He placed his napkin on the table and pushed back his chair.

Levi knew that he should simply permit the supper to end so he could attend to the work he’d brought on board with him and yet he wanted more time. Why? Because of the lovely young widow? Or because he was for the first time seeing the effect that his running away must have had on his grandmother?

“Now that you’ve told me of your bakery, Mr. Goodloe. I’d be curious to have your opinion of my cook’s key lime pie. Would you be so kind as to try it?”

“My daughter is the baker, sir.”

Pleasant’s cheeks flamed a ruddy brick red as Levi signaled Hans to clear and serve. “And you, Mrs. Goodloe? Do you also contribute to the wares available at your father-in-law’s bakery?”

“My daughter-in-law handles the housework for our family,” Gunther replied before Hannah could open her mouth. “She is an excellent cook and has been a good influence on my younger daughters.”

Levi noticed that Pleasant’s scowl deepened. “You have sisters then, Miss Goodloe?”

“Half sisters,” she corrected, but said no more.

“Pleasant’s mother died when Pleasant was just coming of age. After a time, I remarried so that she would have a mother.”

“And these other daughters are the product of that marriage?”

“Ja.”

“So they have stayed at home with their mother?” Gathering information from these people was like organizing a menagerie into a parade.

“Sadly, their mother died in childbirth.”

“I am doubly sorry for your losses, sir,” Levi said.

Gunther smiled at Hannah. “Our Hannah has become like a mother to my younger girls,” he said. “God has blessed us.”

“I see.” Levi would hardly have called the loss of two wives and Hannah’s husband a blessing, but he knew better than to debate the point.

“We have indeed been blessed. I only hope God sees fit to bless us yet again by leading us to Caleb,” Hannah said in a barely audible voice.

Levi hadn’t realized that he had continued to study Hannah far beyond the casual glance her comment might have indicated until Gunther cleared his throat and made a show of tasting his first bite of the pie. The two women followed his lead and all three smiled at Levi as if they had just tasted the best key lime pie ever made.

But Levi had turned his thoughts back to the situation at hand. Here was Gunther, an experienced entrepreneur in his own right, and while Levi did not hold with divine intervention, he had to admit that Gunther had come along at a time when he could use the opinion of a fellow businessman. He needed someone he could trust, someone who had no interest in his business, to review the ledgers for the past season. A fresh set of eyes. But he dismissed the idea as ludicrous. How would an unschooled, Amish baker possibly find what he had not been able to uncover himself?

He looked up and realized that once again Gunther had laid his napkin aside and this time he was standing. The two women had followed suit. Levi scrambled to his feet. “Forgive me,” he said. “I’m afraid that at about this time of night my mind often goes to the business of the day past and that to come tomorrow.”

“You are worried?” Gunther’s eyes narrowed in sympathy.

Levi shrugged. “Always. A great many people rely on me, sir.”

“And who do you rely on, Levi Harmon?”

The older man’s pale blue eyes were kind and concerned. It struck Levi that if his father had lived, he would be about the same age as this man was now. He felt his throat tighten with the bile of loneliness that he had carried with him from the day his parents had died. Instead of responding to Gunther’s question, he motioned for Hans to join them.

“Hans, I believe our guests are ready to retire for the night. Will you show Mr. Goodloe to your quarters?”

“If you don’t mind,” Gunther added, directing his comment to Hans.

“Not at all, sir. I took the liberty of moving your belongings to my cabin while you were enjoying your supper.”

“Then we’ll say good night.” Gunther waited while the two women nodded to Levi and Hans and walked down the corridor to the guest room. Then he clasped Levi’s shoulder. “May God be with you, Levi Harmon.”

And as he watched Hans lead the older man to the plainer quarters, Levi understood that Gunther had not missed the fact that Levi had avoided answering his question. The fact was Levi had no response, for since he’d been a boy, there had been no one to watch over him.