Читать книгу Dry Creek Daddy - Janet Tronstad - Страница 13
ОглавлениеThe sky was still dark when Mark Nelson pulled his pickup to a stop in front of the café, the only place in the small town of Dry Creek, Montana, that was usually open this early. The eatery’s door was shut, but before he could switch his engine off, a woman slipped a delicate hand around the blind covering the café’s large window and flipped the Closed sign to Open. His headlights were on and Mark saw a woman’s profile and thought he recognized the hand. He wasn’t fast enough to get a good look at the ring finger before the hand was withdrawn, but he told himself it had to be bare. He hadn’t seen Hannah Stelling in four years—not since they’d been high school sweethearts—but surely someone would have told him if she had become engaged.
Mark shut off the engine and stepped out of his cab. The gravel under his boots crunched as he walked to the café and climbed the steps.
The one fact he didn’t need anyone to tell him was that Hannah did not want to see him. He wasn’t sure why she had moved back to Dry Creek and taken a job at the café, but a dozen Return to Sender letters told him that it wasn’t because she missed him.
He paused briefly before turning the knob and opening the weathered door in front of him. The overhead light was bright inside the café and Mark involuntarily blinked. He heard the sound of a metal fork hitting the linoleum floor before his eyes adjusted and he saw Hannah staring at him across the empty room. She wore a red T-shirt and denim jeans. Her face was drawn, her auburn hair pulled back in a long ponytail.
“You.” That was all she said, but her voice was stretched so tight it almost vibrated.
He recognized the look on her face. It was the same one she’d had over a decade ago when she appeared for the first time in the open door of his fourth-grade classroom. She’d been ten years old and had just been adopted by the Stellings. Her hair, a ragged copper cap, looked like she’d hacked at it with a kitchen knife, and maybe she had. No one was with her that day; Mr. Stelling had dropped her off and then left her to make her own way into the school. Hannah’s stance in the doorway was defiant. Her jeans had a few worn places and her shoes were scuffed. The other kids were afraid to even smile at her. But looking into her eyes, Mark knew she was scared.
Since then, he must have lost the ability to read her eyes, because he could not tell how she was feeling now. Everything was silent as they stood there in the main room of the café. He heard the sounds of someone in the kitchen shoving pots around, and a radio started up on a station that must be the news. The half-dozen tables in front of him were covered with red-and-white-checked cloths, and everything looked ready for customers.
“Of course it’s me,” Mark finally said, not sure what else to do. Maybe Hannah just needed time to adjust. He surveyed every inch of her pixie face, searching for the subtle differences one would expect after a four-year absence. Her skin was ivory. Her bones delicate. Her hazel eyes so filled with shadows that they could have been black. She was twenty-one years old now, but looked the same as he remembered her at seventeen. He was only a few months older than her but it felt like he’d aged a dozen years since he’d seen her last.
He saw her lips move, but it took a few seconds for her question about whether he knew her to register with him.
“Of course, I know you.” Mark was stunned she would think he could possibly forget her. He understood people were nervous around him because he’d been lying in a hospital bed in a coma for a little over four years. Everyone had been expecting him to die, but he’d held on and then he’d woken up. Some of his memory had been slow to return, but he’d always known Hannah. She had been his best friend ever since she had stood in that classroom door.
They both seemed like different people today, though. Back then, the two of them hid nothing from each other. Given the way she was staring impassively at him, he figured that had all changed.
“I’m completely recovered,” Mark said and then paused. “Well, almost.”
He had to admit that he didn’t remember everything about the gun incident that had lodged a bullet in his brain and put him in the unconscious state, but he was fine. He certainly wasn’t going to worry her about the gaps in his memory.
“Ninety-eight percent, at least,” he added.
Hannah didn’t seem convinced. She was studying him. “Then what’s wrong? You had that look in your eyes when you came in—like you had something to say.”
Mark winced. He had forgotten how well she could read him. “It’s your father.”
“You’ve seen him?” Hannah’s face went blank for a moment. Then her cheeks turned pink with what looked like alarm. It was the most animated she’d been since Mark had stepped into the room. His heart sank. She could clearly be moved to concern, just not for him.
“I came from Miles City a few minutes ago and saw your father’s pickup sitting beside the freeway,” Mark said, telling himself to focus on the details. Hannah would want to know it all. “He had an accident about a mile out. I came along as the ambulance was loading him up.” Mark had gone to the florist shop in Miles City and bought a long-stemmed rose for Hannah’s first day on the job. “I was worried when I saw him.”
“But that can’t be right.” Hannah shook her head as though her hearing was faulty.
“It was him,” Mark said. She’d never questioned him before. Maybe she just didn’t believe he was mentally able to tell her what had happened.
“I just can’t believe it,” Hannah said. “I only got back to Dry Creek last night, but he was out in the field behind the barn this morning when I left. I didn’t have time to go out and talk to him then because I didn’t want to be late for work and I had to take Jeremy to—” Hannah stopped abruptly.
She swallowed. Finally she was focused on Mark, but her stricken expression gave him no comfort. Her defenses were still there. He wanted her to be his sweetheart again, but she obviously did not want the same.
“I took Jeremy to Mrs. Hargrove’s,” she said, finishing her sentence and then gathering herself together before adding, “You remember the older woman who teaches Sunday school here?”
Mark watched a new, deeper blush climb up Hannah’s neck and flood her cheeks with color. For the first time today, she looked vulnerable. Then she turned away from him.
“Of course I remember her,” Mark said, trying to keep his voice even. “I grew up here, too.” He paused. “And I know about Jeremy—our son.”
He felt a hitch in his breath when he spoke of the boy. He had learned about Jeremy’s existence only a few months ago. That’s why he had been frantically writing Hannah those letters—the ones that had all come back to him unopened.
“I’m sorry,” Hannah said softly and then looked away.
“Don’t be.” He reached out a hand to her. Her defenses were down and all he wanted to do was comfort her.
She took a step back from him. “I’m fine now.”
“Of course you are.” He withdrew his hand.
The biggest and best news he’d had when recovering from the coma had been that he and Hannah had a baby. Jeremy was four years old now. For months, Mark’s sister and father had postponed telling him about the child since the doctors had said not to upset Mark. “I’m glad to be a father. Very glad. I’m anxious to meet Jeremy.”
He didn’t want to pressure Hannah, but he could hardly wait to see the boy.
She finally met his eyes.
“He’s a good boy,” Hannah said, her voice gentle. She smiled for the first time. “He’ll want to know you, but I have a lot to talk to him about before I do anything to unsettle him.”
“Of course.” Mark bit back a retort. He didn’t want to cause his son any distress. Hannah should know that already. But he supposed he could not just show up and expect everything to be smooth. Then a suspicion came to him. “Does Jeremy even know about me?”
“He’s never asked.” Hannah gave him an apologetic look. “I read a book by this doctor who recommended waiting until a child asks about a missing parent—especially if...”
It was silent for a moment and then Mark realized what had happened. “You thought I was going to die.”
Hannah flushed guiltily. “I prayed you wouldn’t.”
“And I didn’t,” Mark said, clipping the words. He knew he was being unreasonable. Everyone else had thought that he was going to die; he didn’t know why Hannah should have believed otherwise. It still felt like a betrayal, though.
Hannah was silent a moment and then she said, “I think you must be mistaken about my father. There are a lot of white pickups that look like his. About the only thing he said to me last night was that he was going to get the last of the wheat crop in today before the rain came. I know he was doing that this morning because he had on the same pair of overalls he’s worn for years when harvesting. So, no,” she said, looking at Mark with resolve. “He wouldn’t have been going to Miles City.”
Mark didn’t know what Mr. Stelling had meant when he’d told Hannah he’d be getting in the last of the crop. Mark passed the older man’s fields almost daily. Mr. Stelling hadn’t started yet and everyone else in Dry Creek had finished their harvesting.
It was the coma, Mark thought. People, and apparently Hannah was one of them, worried that it turned a person forgetful about the things that were happening in the present. But it didn’t. He might not remember every little thing from before the coma, but he knew what he’d seen this morning.
“Maybe your dad needed to go for a new part for the combine,” Mark replied calmly. He knew Hannah had mixed feelings about her adoptive father, but Mark always felt she secretly longed to be able to turn to the man like a daughter would, even if he was one of the most difficult men Mark knew. “He was wearing that old gray plaid shirt of his, along with those overalls. The shirt had a hole in the sleeve.”
Hannah’s eyes went wide.
“That’s right,” she whispered. “Mom bought that shirt for him before she died. He always wore it when he did the harvesting. And he had torn it the last year I was here. He never fixed it.”
Hannah’s auburn lashes were long and made her dark hazel eyes look striking. They were her most beautiful feature. But then, in high school he had declared her kneecaps to be works of art when he realized one day how pretty they were. It had made her giggle. Which had made him kiss her. Which had made her so breathless she started to hiccup. Which had made them both laugh. Mark wished they were back in that time.
“My father hasn’t called,” she interrupted his thoughts, bringing them back to the present. “He knows I’m working at the café this morning. He’d call if he had trouble.”
Mark didn’t have time to answer before he heard the door open that led into the room from the kitchen. Lois Wagner, the other waitress who worked in the café, walked out to the area where he and Hannah stood.
“Here we go,” Lois said in a pleasant voice as she held out a white butcher-style apron. She wore a red sleeveless blouse instead of a red T-shirt like Hannah did, but the middle-aged woman’s jeans were just as well worn as Hannah’s. Mark had gotten to know Lois in the past few weeks and he gave her a brief smile as she nodded to him. She was the one who had told him Hannah would be starting her new job today.
“The newest piece of our unofficial uniform,” Lois said as she focused on Hannah again.
Hannah took the apron, but did not reach to put it on over her head. “My father just had a traffic accident.” She spoke to Lois and then turned to Mark. “He wasn’t hurt bad, was he?”
“I didn’t see the other car, but it looked like a fender bender from what I could see,” Mark answered. “We could contact the hospital. If he’s unconscious, he can’t call anyone.”
“Oh,” Hannah exclaimed, sounding even more worried as she laid the apron over a nearby chair.
“He probably only has a bruise or two,” Mark said, wishing he hadn’t said anything about the man being unconscious.
“If you want to go to the hospital, you should,” Lois said as she put a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “I usually do the early shift by myself anyway, and Linda will be in at ten o’clock to help with the noon rush.”
Linda Enger was the café owner. The staff at the café always said they couldn’t ask for a sweeter boss.
Hannah turned to the other waitress, looking relieved. “You’re sure it’s all right? I don’t want to leave you shorthanded. I need this job and it’s only my first day.”
“Don’t worry,” Lois said. “We might not get many people anyway since it looks like rain. It truly is okay. You can start tomorrow morning instead.”
“I will check on him, then,” Hannah said. “Just to be sure everything is okay.”
“I’ll drive you,” Mark offered.
Hannah looked like she’d protest, but Lois spoke. “Let him, honey. I doubt you even know how to get to the hospital.”
“No, I don’t,” Hannah said, sounding startled at the realization. “I know how to get almost everywhere in the county, but I never drove there. My father always did the driving when my mother was there.”
Mark wasn’t surprised that Hannah had never been in the hospital because of any need of her own. She’d had no issues except, of course, her pregnancy. She must have been in a hospital then. Mark’s head started to hurt. The two of them needed to talk about the pregnancy. He hadn’t known about the baby when they’d had their last big fight. He’d been in a coma when the baby was born, but he still felt guilty for not being there.
“I’ll let you know how he is,” Hannah said as she walked over to the counter and, reaching behind it, drew out a small black purse with a shoulder strap. Mark thought he remembered it as one she’d had in high school. He was going to ask her about that but then stopped himself.
From the bits and pieces she’d told him long ago, the foster homes and institutions where she’d lived before moving to Dry Creek had seen more than their share of petty thefts. She had not managed to keep much that was her own in those days. After she came to the Stellings, she guarded her possessions carefully. She believed she needed to fight to keep what she had.
She never mentioned it to him, but he saw that she treated the people in her life the same way. If she warmed to a person, she’d stand up for them against everyone else. People were not replaceable in her mind.
No wonder she was still talking to her father, Mark thought. If he didn’t count Jeremy, Mr. Stelling was the only family she had. She wouldn’t give him up unless she absolutely had to.
Mark opened the café door for Hannah and followed her down the steps.
He opened the door of his pickup and held her elbow so she could make the long step up to the floorboard. Long ago, his mother had taught him to be a country gentleman when escorting a girl anywhere in a truck. She said the young lady would appreciate it. Hannah didn’t appear to think much of it, though. In fact, she scowled at him as though he should know better.
He was so dumbfounded that he just stood there a moment. She had never objected to his help. Not even when they’d been fishing and she’d gotten that long wood sliver in the palm of her hand and he had to pull it out with his teeth.
She couldn’t have changed that much. Not unless something really bad had happened. It didn’t take more than a second for him to realize he had been that bad thing. His coma had left her pregnant and alone.
He figured now wasn’t a good time to apologize for letting her down, though. So he walked around the pickup, opened the door and settled himself behind the steering wheel.
In minutes, they were outside town and on their way to Miles City. He couldn’t help but notice Hannah was looking down at the rose lying in the middle of the seat between them. She was frowning at that, too.
“Girlfriend?” she asked.
“Huh?” He was surprised, but managed to keep the pickup on the road. “No. It’s for you. For your first day back home.”
“Oh,” she said. “I thought maybe—”
She stopped and looked out the window.
“What?”
“You were gone so long that I thought maybe you had a girlfriend now. That’s all.”
“I wasn’t gone,” Mark protested. “I was stuck in a coma.”
“Of course, but—” Hannah started, but did not finish.
“I know I was still gone,” Mark answered. He would agree to that.
Mark knew he should say something more, but he didn’t want to give her a glib excuse. There was a time when he’d have been able to string together a convincing argument for his actions without even thinking about it. The bullet that hit his head had reduced his vocabulary to rubble, though. No words came to his mind and then it was too late.
“Nice day,” he finally said.
“How can you say that?” she responded incredulously. “It’s going to rain.”
“I didn’t mean the weather,” Mark said. He wasn’t sure what he had meant, so he kept quiet. It was going to be a long drive into Miles City.
* * *
“This is it?” Hannah knew it was the hospital. That much was obvious. But she needed to say something. She’d been frozen in silence on the trip here, and now they were parked in the building’s lot, just sitting there.
“They’re planning to remodel the place,” Mark said as he reached for his door handle.
Hannah turned to unlatch hers, too, and opened the door before Mark felt he had to come around and do it for her. She knew he was just trying to be nice to her, but she didn’t want him to be polite. She remembered how, as a child, she’d felt like an outsider in Dry Creek, believing the town’s friendliness was only for those who had been born there. But once Mark started coming around to take her fishing, she was content. She hadn’t cared any longer if she didn’t belong. One friend was more than she’d ever thought she’d have in life and she liked him.
But then Mark kissed her. Both sixteen at the time, they were standing in the far field checking to see if there were any chokecherries yet on the wild bushes that grew along the fence. The kiss had been an impulse on his part. She was sure of that. He seemed as shocked as she had been. But while he seemed to take it in stride, she felt like she’d fallen off a cliff. Something inside her shattered. After that, she dreamed of a future with him that she’d never given any thought to before that kiss. Suddenly he wasn’t just her friend; he had become as important to her as the air she breathed. She’d never felt like that with anyone or anything before. No one had ever made her feel as safe.
And then—no sooner than she’d become adjusted to her new hopes—he was gone. Almost dead, everyone said. She hadn’t allowed herself to get that close to any man since.
She’d been writing back and forth to Mrs. Hargrove over the years, and the good woman had encouraged her to trust someone, especially God, with her life. A few months ago, Hannah had decided to do that. But relying on God and trusting Mark were two different things. God did not go into a coma when she needed him most. No, she could not face that cliff again. Not with Jeremy being so very sick. She was all her baby had and she could not worry about anyone else, not even herself.
A long hallway ran along the edge of the building, and Hannah saw that the waiting room was crowded. A line had formed in front of the receptionist’s counter.
She and Mark hurried over and joined the people standing there.
“It’ll be okay,” Mark murmured as they started to move forward slowly.
Hannah ignored his words. That was the way it started. A woman would believe some nonsense from the man in her life. And foolishness it was—no one could know if things were going to be okay or not. Mark should realize that. He couldn’t guarantee anything.
Just then the couple in front of them finished their business and stepped out of line.
“I’m here about Elias Stelling,” Hannah announced to a dark-haired woman behind the receptionist desk. “He was in a car accident out on the freeway about—” Hannah glanced up at Mark. “Would you say forty-five minutes ago?”
Mark nodded.
“Is either of you a relative?” The woman looked up from the paperwork on her desk.
“Well, I’m—” Hannah stumbled and paused.
She had run away from the Stelling place when her pregnancy started to become obvious. Her adoptive mother had died of cancer years before and her father still moved around the house like a disinterested stranger, glaring at Hannah if he noticed her at all. She had curled up in a protective ball when Mark went into his coma. She felt like she was in the emptiness with him, waiting to die. But there was the baby inside her, calling her to live.
After the first wave of grief passed, she knew she had to make some decisions. She was brittle and could break at any time. She refused to stay around someone who was supposed to care about her but didn’t. Leaving the Stelling house was a stubborn decision based on hurt, but she knew it was right for her. She was better off in a home for unwed mothers, where she had no expectations of kindness as she did living with her adoptive father. Besides, she knew how to make it in an institution. No one could disappoint her. She never had gotten the hang of being part of a family.
She was taking too long to answer the clerk’s question and the woman was looking at her with suspicion. Hannah straightened her shoulders. The hospital wasn’t asking about the strength of her tie to the man she called Father. All they wanted was her legal status.
She nodded to emphasize her point. “I’m his daughter. His only family.”
Neither one of them had anyone else. Strange as it was, that feeble truth had pulled her back to Dry Creek.
The woman still eyed her skeptically and asked for identification. Hannah pulled out her wallet and flipped it open. “Here’s my driver’s license.”
The clerk seemed friendlier after she’d checked Hannah’s name on the license. “We have to be careful who we talk to. The privacy laws, you know.”
The woman looked down on her desk and pulled a clipboard from the pile in front of her. “The two of you can have a seat in the waiting room. Someone will call your name shortly and then escort you back to your father.”
Hannah nodded. “Thank you.”
Most of the seats in the waiting room were taken. Hannah noticed several mothers with toddlers and was thankful that Jeremy was not here. She was determined to keep him out of hospitals as much as possible. Planning to lead into telling him why, she’d asked if he might want to spend a night in a hospital sometime. The very thought seemed to terrify him. Since then, she hadn’t come up with a good way to tell her son that he would most likely need to do just that because he was very sick.
“How’s this?” Mark asked as he gestured to the two empty chairs in the corner.
Hannah nodded and they walked over to them. She’d have to tell everyone about Jeremy’s leukemia diagnosis at some point, but she didn’t want to do that until she had at least unpacked their clothes and gotten them settled.
She wondered how Mark could know who she was thinking about, but he seemed to because they had no sooner sat down in the chairs than he asked, “Which of these kids is closest to Jeremy’s size?”
Mark seemed a little shy about asking.
She looked up and smiled. The first thing she’d noticed about him when he came into the café earlier was that he was wearing one of his rodeo champion belt buckles. The lights overhead made the buckle sparkle here and there where it hit the brass and silver parts. Mark prided himself on winning those prize buckles and had several. Today, though, he looked like the boy she’d met when they were both ten years old. He had a hank of hair that was unruly. It had always been that way. The rich brown strands curled slightly everywhere on his head, except behind his left ear. Tufts of hair just stuck out, defiant of any comb. Hannah had noticed last year that Jeremy had an identical spot developing on his head.
“The boy holding the orange ball is about Jeremy’s size,” she said quietly.
As Mark studied the child, she looked at him. Apart from the hair problem, he had a stubborn chin. It took the edge off his handsomeness. He had some fine lines on his face now that had not been there before. She wondered if they were from pain. Everyone she had talked to said he would never come out of that coma. When he started to get better, she had called the hospital. The doctors said they needed to be careful about his visitors and only his sister could see him. It had been the amazing story of the week on local news when he moved his finger for the first time, though. She’d wept happy tears for days. It wasn’t until later that she realized everything would not just slip back into place. It could not.
“My sister says Jeremy loves horses,” Mark said. “Maybe you can bring him over to our ranch and he can ride a pony in a few days.”
She’d heard the Nelson horse ranch was prospering now that Mark, his sister, Allie, and his new brother-in-law, Clay West, were all working together. Mark’s father was there, too, but he was semiretired.
“Jeremy would love that,” Hannah said before she realized it could not happen. She didn’t know exactly what his treatments would be, but she figured that, when they were over, Jeremy would be too frail to risk breaking any bones. Even if everything worked, the doctor said Jeremy might be in a wheelchair indefinitely. “It’s probably best to wait a while, though.”
Mark started to say something, but just then a door opened and a nurse called out, “Miss Stelling.”
Hannah looked up. “This way please,” the woman said. Hannah stood and Mark was right beside her.
The lights were bright and a series of doors led off the hallway. Muffled voices seemed to come from everywhere.
The woman motioned for them to stop beside a closed door, and Hannah glanced up to Mark. His face was pale. Those pain wrinkles seemed more pronounced. She reached out and took his hand. They had both lost loved ones in this hospital. His mother. Her adoptive mother. Mark squeezed her hand and didn’t let it go. “We’ll get him well again.”
Hannah couldn’t find her voice to answer, but she already knew she did not agree with his glib response. The coma had protected Mark from the struggles she’d had in the last years. She gently withdrew her hand from his. Mark couldn’t help that coma, but she believed he’d already decided to move away before he got shot that night. He was going away to college. Her son didn’t need to become attached to someone who would eventually leave him.
The woman stepped into the room and then came out.
“You can go in,” she said. “The nurse inside will help you.”
“Thank you,” Hannah whispered.
Light green walls reflected the strong florescent lights. A grunt came from the elevated bed in the middle of the room.
“What took you so long?” a man’s querulous voice accused her from where he lay. Blankets partially hid his face, but she knew him.
Hannah stopped in midstride. Her father had barely greeted her when she drove in last night, saying little beyond directing her to set herself up in the small house near the barn. That’s where the farmhands had stayed when there were any. It was drafty and dusty. It hadn’t been used in years. Her father had no reason to expect to see her standing here now.
“You can’t talk to Hannah that way,” Mark said before Hannah could answer. “You didn’t call and tell her what happened. She didn’t need to come to the hospital at all.”
“It’s okay,” Hannah whispered. She was embarrassed at the gulf between her and her father. But she hadn’t moved back under any illusion that he’d give her a warm welcome.
She’d come because she had no other home. And the part-time job in the café gave her time off so she could take Jeremy to his doctor’s appointments. She’d still be able to work enough hours to buy groceries and, if necessary, pay rent. She reminded herself she needed to find out exactly what her father wanted in payment for use of that run-down house. She prayed it wouldn’t be much; she didn’t know what the copays would be on Jeremy’s treatment yet—or even if their insurance would cover it at all. She’d find out on Wednesday when she took him to meet the physician who’d be treating him.
“No need to be touchy,” her father said, glaring at Mark. “I—”
“We need to decide what to do,” Hannah interrupted matter-of-factly as she stepped closer to her father’s bed. She didn’t have time in her life for this kind of drama. The nurse, on the other side of her father, was setting a glass of water on his table.
Hannah continued, “First off, you were in an accident.”
“I know what happened,” her father snapped. “My brain works just fine—” He looked over at Mark and glared. “Not like some I could mention.”
“That remark is not necessary.” Hannah was appalled at what he’d said. Her father never had approved of her spending time with Mark, but he’d usually avoided outright rudeness. “You should be grateful Mark drove me here.”
She did not know what her father had against the Nelson family, but she wasn’t going to let him make a scene. She stepped even closer to the hospital bed, thinking her father might lower his voice if she did so. The door was still open and she did not want the whole floor to hear him.
He just grimaced at her. “I don’t need anyone hovering over me.”
“Yes, you do,” the nurse informed him briskly. “The doctor means it when he says you need to be watched for at least twenty-four hours. You’ve got a concussion and cracked ribs.”
“I can’t worry about any of that,” he protested indignantly. “I have to get my wheat harvested. It’s going to rain and I’ll lose the whole crop if I don’t get it in. Then how will I pay my taxes?”
“The doctor knows his medicine,” the nurse said with even greater emphasis. “He won’t release you if you’re going to bounce around on farm equipment and do your head more harm.”
“A rancher can’t just ignore his crops,” her father said. “He’ll end up broke.”
“The doctor thinks your health is more important than your crops.”
“It’s my livelihood,” her father persisted.
“And this is your life,” the nurse countered.
The room was silent for a minute while her father tried to stare down the nurse. He didn’t succeed.
“I’ll do the harvesting,” Hannah finally said. “At least today and tomorrow.”
She’d need to be free on Wednesday to take Jeremy to his initial consultation with the new doctor. But she could run the combine tomorrow. She’d helped her father with the farmwork the summer her mother had been so ill. He hadn’t cared about the crops then. He’d sat in the back bedroom by her mother’s side for days.
“You?” her father demanded incredulously. “You can’t run that combine by yourself! Besides, you’d lose that job of yours at the café, and then what would you do? I can’t be supporting you and that sick boy of yours all winter long.”
The silence went even deeper. In the phone call she’d made last week, Hannah hadn’t told her father about the leukemia; she had only said Jeremy was sick. Apparently that had been enough to put him off, though.
“I won’t lose my job,” Hannah said, praying it was true. “Maybe I can start in the fields before it’s light in the morning—”
Mark interrupted, “Jeremy’s sick?”
“I’ll tell you about it later,” Hannah said.
“Of course the boy’s sick,” her father muttered flatly. “What do you expect?”
It took Hannah a minute to realize what her father meant. “What are you saying? That it’s my fault Jeremy’s sick? Because I wasn’t married?”
She knew how the old man thought. He didn’t answer.
Hannah turned to Mark. “Let’s go. He can stay here for all I care.”
Her father’s attitude reminded her of why she’d felt she needed to sneak away from his house. No one at the home for unwed mothers was even pretending to be part of her family. And that meant they didn’t feel they had the right to condemn her, either.
She started walking to the door when she heard Mark speak.
“I’ll run the combine,” he announced quietly.
Hannah went back into the room.
“You?” her father sounded even more agitated as he stared at Mark. “Why, I can’t let a Nelson—”
Hannah stared at the man who had been the only father she’d ever known. She wasn’t the only one he disliked. He wouldn’t ask for help from anyone. He’d locked eyes with Mark and was starting to sit up as though that would prove something.
“You need to get that wheat in a granary soon or you won’t have a crop at all,” Mark said, his voice not rising. “You should have let me help you last week when I offered.”
“You already said you’d help him?” Hannah squeaked, staring at Mark. She could not believe this.
He nodded. “And got cussed out for the effort.”
Hannah glanced over to her father and saw him looking sheepish.
“You refused to let him help you?” she asked. “Why?”
Her father might not ask for assistance, but she hadn’t expected he would turn it down.
“I don’t need him to do anything.” Then, looking belligerent, her father added, “And don’t think I’m going to pay overtime for any twelve-hour days.”
“It’ll be more like sixteen-hour days since you let it go so late, and I’ll not be charging you a penny, you old fool,” Mark said. “You treat Hannah better and don’t say a bad word about Jeremy and we’ll consider ourselves even.”
Hannah smiled slightly. Her father glowered at everyone, but he kept his mouth shut. He was apparently willing to accept help when it was free.
“You’ll keep him quiet and resting?” the nurse asked Hannah. “For at least a full day?”
She nodded.
“I’ll get the doctor, then,” the nurse said. “It’ll take a few minutes to get him ready to leave.”
“My pickup is busted up, too,” her father mumbled as the nurse left the room.
“I’ve got mine outside,” Mark said. “Do we need to call a tow truck for yours?”
Hannah’s father shook his head. “The repair shop has it. I’ll come back and get it next week. In the meantime, we need to take this back with us.”
He pointed to a small cardboard box with a stock number on top of it that was lying at the foot of his bed. “For the combine.”
Mark nodded. “That’s the part you need?”
“Yes,” the older man said. “I made the ambulance guys get it for me before I agreed to go with them.”
Mark bent over and picked up the box.
“You were right, then,” Hannah said to Mark as they exited the room. Together they walked back down the hall. The nurse was planning to bring Hannah’s father to the left entrance when he was ready.
“I’m sorry he’s so rude,” Hannah said. “Hopefully he’ll only need you for a day or two.”
Mark looked over. “You’re not responsible for your father.”
“Maybe not,” Hannah said. “But someone needs to apologize for him. He’s gotten worse. I had no idea.”
“He misses you,” Mark said.
“I doubt that,” Hannah muttered.
She reminded herself that she needed to stay in Dry Creek for only a few months. By then—please, God, she mouthed—Jeremy would be well again, at least if the doctor had an opening and could perform that new stem cell treatment she’d heard about. He’d already done it for others and had wonderful results.
“I’ll pray with you, if you tell me what’s troubling you,” Mark said.
“Oh.” Hannah hadn’t realized he was listening that closely. Her words had been little more than two short whispered breaths. She didn’t want to confess to her troubles, though. Not until she knew if she could trust him.
Finally Hannah nodded. “I didn’t know you pray.”
They had both been in Mrs. Hargrove’s Sunday school class for years, so they knew their Bible stories. But by high school, neither one of them was taking God very seriously.
“You certainly didn’t pray back then,” she added.
Mark shrugged. “Things change.”
She had no answer to that; it was obvious.
“We’ll be back at your dad’s place soon,” Mark finally added.
“He won’t sit quiet,” Hannah warned. “You’ll wonder why you ever agreed to help him.”
“I’m not helping him,” Mark said as he looked over at her. “I’m doing it for you and Jeremy.”
Hannah felt the panic inside. “I don’t need any charity.”
Mark grunted. “Never said you did.”
Hannah almost shook herself. Part of keeping her guard up was to do it so quietly that no one noticed. Mark would be watching her if he thought she was trying to avoid reasonable help.
“I can ask for assistance if I need it,” she assured him.
“Of course.” Mark smiled as he reached for the door.
Hannah let him open it and didn’t say anything. This whole exchange was making her wonder if she could bring herself to ask for help in a crisis. She never would ask for herself, but she would have to ask for Jeremy if he was as sick as he might be. She’d know more after the upcoming doctor’s appointment. For now, she had no choice but to accept Mark’s help, even if it meant she put her heart at risk. She didn’t know how she was going to cope with seeing him every day until her father’s wheat was harvested.
