Читать книгу A Widow's Hope - Vannetta Chapman - Страница 14
ОглавлениеHannah pushed aside her unsettled feelings and worked her way through the morning. She managed to complete the washing and hang it up on the line, and she helped her mother to put lunch on the table, all the while keeping a close eye on what was happening in the backyard.
When it was time for lunch, Matthew came in proclaiming he was an “official ’rentice now,” and Jacob followed behind him with a sheepish look on his face.
Her father joined them for the noon meal. Earlier, he had stayed around long enough to confirm where the playhouse would be built and then he’d headed off to the fields. It worried her sometimes, her father being fifty-two and still working behind a team of horses, but her mother only scoffed at that. “What is he supposed to do? Sit in a rocking chair? Your father is as healthy as the bull in the north pasture, and if it’s Gotte’s wille, he’ll stay that way for many more years.”
The meal had passed pleasantly enough, though Hannah didn’t like how enamored Matthew was with Jacob Schrock. They laughed and described their morning’s work and talked of trains as if they’d been on one.
“There’s a place in town called Tender Jim’s.” Jacob reached for another helping of potato salad. “Have you heard of it, Matthew?”
Matthew stuffed a potato chip into his mouth and shook his head.
“Down on Danbury Drive. Isn’t it?” Her father sat back, holding his glass of tea with one hand and pulling on his beard with the other. “Nice Englisch fellow.”
“And what were you doing in Tender Jim’s?” Claire asked.
“Curious, mostly. I’d taken Dolly to the farrier and had to wait a bit longer than I thought I would. Wandered down and talked to the fellow.”
“Did he have trains?” Matthew asked.
“Oh, ya. Certainly, he did. Small ones and large ones.”
“As large as my playhouse?”
“Nein. They were toys.”
“Perhaps we could go by and see them sometime,” Jacob said.
Hannah jumped up as if she’d been stung by a bee. “Matthew has a full week planned with his physical therapy appointments and all, but danki for the offer.”
This was exactly why she didn’t want a man like Jacob around—or any man for that matter. They’d raise her son’s hopes, promise him things they wouldn’t deliver and then disappear one day when they realized that Matthew was never going to walk, never going to be normal.
She pretended to be occupied with putting things up in the refrigerator as Jacob, her father and Matthew went out to look at the “job site.” Her job was to protect Matthew—from strangers who would pretend to be friends, and from upheaval in his life. Which reminded her that she still hadn’t been to town to purchase a newspaper.
She needed to stop worrying, which was easier said than done. Jacob would be finished with the playhouse in a day or two and then Matthew wouldn’t see him anymore. Didn’t Jacob mention that he was part of a different church district? She hadn’t been home long enough to sort the districts out, but she did know there were a lot of Amish in the area. It would explain why she hadn’t seen him at church.
Hannah and her mother cleared away the lunch dishes and put together a casserole for dinner and then her mother sat at the table. Hannah continued to peer out the window. What were they doing out there? How could Matthew possibly be helping? Why would Jacob want him to?
“Come sit down a minute, Hannah.”
“But—”
“Come on, now. You’ve been on your feet all morning.”
Hannah peeked out the window one last time, then walked to the table and sank into one of the chairs. Mamm was putting the finishing touches on a baby quilt for a new mother in their congregation.
Hannah had to force her eyes away from the pastel fabric and the Sunbonnet Sue and Overall Sam pattern. Her mother had given her a similar quilt when Matthew was born. When Hannah had first wrapped her son in that quilt, she’d trusted that only good things would happen in their future. She’d hoped that one day she would wrap her daughter in the same quilt. Now such beliefs didn’t come so easily.
“I know you wanted today’s paper, but last week’s is still next to your father’s chair in the sitting room.”
“How did you know I wanted a paper?”
“Matthew told me you mentioned it.”
Had she told Matthew?
Abandoning any attempt to figure out how her mother knew things, Hannah fetched a highlighter from a kitchen drawer and the newspaper from the sitting room, folded it open to the Help Wanted section and sat down with a sigh.
“I wish you wouldn’t worry about that.”
“But we need the money.”
“Gotte will provide, Hannah.”
“Maybe He’s providing through one of these ads.”
The next twenty minutes passed in silence as Hannah’s mood plummeted even lower. The part-time positions paid too little and the full-time positions would require her to be away from home from sunup to sundown, if she could even get one of the positions, which was doubtful since she had no experience. She could always be a waitress at one of the Amish restaurants, but those positions were usually filled by younger girls—girls who hadn’t yet married, who had no children.
“He’s nice. Don’t you think?”
“Who?”
“You know who.”
“I don’t know who.”
“We sound like the owl in the barn.”
Hannah smiled at her mother and slapped the newspaper shut. “Okay. I probably know who.”
“I guess you were surprised to see him at the door.”
“Indeed I was.” Hannah should have kept her mouth shut, but she couldn’t resist asking, “Do you know what happened to him? To his face?”
“A fire, no doubt.” Her mother rocked the needle back and forth, tracing the outline of a Sunbonnet Sue. “We’ve had several homes destroyed over the years, and always there are injuries. Once or twice the fire was a result of carelessness. I think there was even one caused by lightning.”
“A shame,” Hannah whispered.
“That he had to endure such pain—yes. I’ll agree with that. It doesn’t change who he is, though, or his value as a person.”
“I never said—”
“You, more than anyone else, should realize that.”
“Of course I do.”
“You wouldn’t want anyone looking at Matthew and seeing a child with a disability. That’s not who he is. That’s just evidence of something he’s endured.”
“There’s no need to lecture me, Mamm.”
“Of course there isn’t.” She rotated the quilt and continued outlining the appliqué. “I can see that Jacob is self-conscious about his scars, though. I hate to think that anyone has been unkind to him.”
“His scars don’t seem to be affecting Matthew’s opinion. He looks at Jacob as if he had raised a barn single-handedly.”
“Gotte has a funny way of putting people in our life right when we need them.”
“I’m not sure this was Gotte’s work.”
“I know you don’t mean that. I raised you to have more faith, Hannah. The last year has been hard, ya, I know, but never doubt that Gotte is still guiding your life.”
Instead of arguing, Hannah opted to pursue a lighter subject. “So Gotte sent Jacob to build my son a playhouse?”
“Maybe.”
She nearly laughed. Her mother’s optimism grated on her nerves at times, but Hannah appreciated and loved her more than she could ever say. Mamm had been her port in the storm. Or perhaps Gotte had been, and Mamm had simply nudged her in the correct direction.
“You have to admit he’s easy on the eyes.”
“Is that how you older women describe a handsome man?”
“So you think he’s gut-looking?”
“That’s not what I said, Mamm.”
Claire tied off her thread, popped it through the back of the quilt and then rethreaded her needle. “Tell me about this first date you two had, because I can hardly remember it.”
“Small wonder. I was only sixteen.”
“Ya? Already out of school, then.”
“I was. In fact, I was working at the deli counter in town.”
“I remember that job. You always brought home the leftover sandwiches.”
“Jacob and I attended the same school, in the old district when we lived on Jackspur Lane. He’s two years older than me.”
“I’m surprised I don’t remember your stepping out with him.”
“Our house was quite busy then.” Hannah was the youngest of three girls. She’d always expected her life to follow their fairy-tale existence. “Beth had just announced her plans to marry Carl, and Sharon was working with the midwife.”
“I do remember that summer. I thought things would get easier when you three were out of school, but suddenly I had trouble keeping up with everyone.”
“The date with Jacob, it was only my second or third, and I was still expecting something like I read in the romance books.”
Her mother tsked.
“They were Christian romance, Mamm.”
“I’m guessing your date with Jacob didn’t match with what you’d been reading.”
“Hardly. First of all, he showed up with mud splattered all over the buggy, and the inside of it was filled with pieces of hay and fast-food wrappers and even a pair of dirty socks.”
“Didn’t he have older brothers?”
“He had one.”
“So I guess they shared the buggy.”
Hannah shrugged. “We’d barely made it a quarter mile down the road when we both noticed his horse was limping.”
“Oh my.”
“It was no big thing. He jumped out of the buggy and began to clean out her hooves with a pick.”
“While you waited.”
“At first. Then I decided to help, which he told me in no short fashion not to do.”
“There are times when it’s hard for a man, especially a young man, to accept a woman’s help.”
“I waited about ten minutes and finally said I was heading home.”
“Changed your mind before you were even out of sight of the house.”
“Maybe. What I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to stand on the side of the road while Jacob Schrock took care of his horse—something he should have done before picking me up.”
“Could have been his brother’s doing.”
“I suppose.”
“I hope you didn’t judge him harshly because of a dirty buggy and a lame horse.”
“Actually, I don’t think I judged him at all. I simply realized that I didn’t want to spend the evening with him.”
“Well, he seems to have turned into a fine young man.”
Hannah refolded the newspaper and pointed her highlighter at her mother. “Tell me you are not matchmaking.”
“Why would I do such a thing?”
“Exactly.”
“Though I did help both of your sisters find their husbands.”
“I need a job, Mamm. I don’t need a husband. I have a son, I have a family and I have a home. I’m fine without Jacob Schrock or any other man.” Before her mother could see how rattled she was, Hannah jumped up, stepped over to the window and stared out at Jacob and Matthew.
“At least you parted friends...or so it seems.”
Hannah suddenly remembered Jacob kissing her behind the swing set at school. It had been her first kiss, and a bit of a mess. He’d leaned in, a bee had buzzed past her and she’d darted to the right at the last minute. The result was a kiss on the left side of her kapp. She’d been mortified, though Jacob had laughed good-naturedly, then reached for her hand and walked her back into the school building. It was three years later when he’d asked her out on the buggy ride.
Remembering the kiss, Hannah felt the heat crawl up her neck. Before her mother could interrogate her further, she busied herself pulling two glasses from the cabinet and said, “Perhaps I should take both of the workers something to drink.”
She filled the glasses with lemonade, snagged half a dozen of her mother’s oatmeal cookies, put it all on a tray and carried it outside.
After setting it down on the picnic table under the tall maple tree, she turned to watch Jacob and Matthew. In spite of her resolution to maintain a safe distance from Jacob Schrock, her heart tripped a beat at the sight of him.
Which made no sense, because Jacob Schrock was not her type.
He was eight inches taller than she was, whereas David had been her height exactly.
He was blond. David had been dark haired.
His eyes were blue, and David’s had been a lovely brown.
Nothing about the man standing near her son appealed to her, least of all the suggestion that he knew what was good for Matthew.
She couldn’t help noticing, though...
The sleeves of his blue shirt were rolled up past the elbow, revealing his muscular, tanned arms.
Sweat gleamed on his forehead and caused his blond hair to curl slightly.
As she watched, he handed one end of a tape measure to Matthew, stepped off what was apparently the length of the project and pushed a stake into the ground.
When he was done, Jacob glanced up, noticed her waiting and smiled. Now, why did his smile cause her heart to race even faster? Perhaps she needed to see a doctor. Maybe the depression that had pressed down on her like a dark cloud for so long had finally taken its toll on her heart. Or maybe she was experiencing a normal reaction to a nice-looking man doing a kind deed.
Of course, he was getting paid for it.
But he didn’t have to allow Matthew to tag along.
He certainly didn’t have to smile at her every time she was near.
Jacob stored the tape measure they were using in a tool belt and said something to Matthew. When her son twisted in his wheelchair to look at her, she had to press her fingers to her lips. Yes, he still sat in his chair, but he looked like a completely different boy. He had rolled up his sleeves, sweat had plastered his hair to his head and a smear of dirt marked his cheek. When he caught her watching, he beamed at her as if it were Christmas Day.
In short, he looked like a normal child having a great time building a playhouse.
* * *
Jacob glanced back at Hannah in time to catch her staring at Matthew, the fingers of her right hand pressed against her lips. Jacob considered himself open to beauty. Maybe because of his own disfigurement, he found contentment in noticing Gotte’s handiwork elsewhere.
He’d often stood and watched the sunset, thinking that Gotte had done a wonderful thing by providing them such splendor. He’d helped his brother when it was time for birthing in the spring: goats, horses, cows, and once when a terrible storm came through and they couldn’t get to the hospital—a son. Jacob didn’t mind that such things brought him to tears, that he often had to pause and catch his breath, that he was sensitive to the joys of this world.
But when he looked up and saw Hannah, an unfamiliar emotion brushed against the inside of his heart. It couldn’t be attraction, as he’d never asked a woman out on a date because of how she looked—not before the fire and not since. He hadn’t asked a woman out in years, and he wouldn’t be starting today. As for her personality, well, if he were to be honest with himself, she was pushy, obviously overprotective of her son and taciturn to the point of being rude.
She was beautiful, though, and more than that, her obvious love for her son was moving. Her vulnerability in that moment reached deep into his soul and affected him in a way he didn’t realize he could be touched.
So he stooped down and said to Matthew, “Best take a break. Your mamm has brought us a snack.”
He walked beside the boy as they made their way toward the picnic table.
“Mamm, I’m helping.” Matthew reached for a cookie, broke it in half and stuffed the larger piece into his mouth.
“It appears you worked up an appetite.”
Matthew nodded, and Jacob said, “We both did.”
Hannah motioned for him to help himself. He popped a whole cookie into his mouth and said, “Wow,” before he’d finished chewing. Which caused Matthew to dissolve in a fit of laughter.
“What-id I-ooh?” Jacob asked, exaggerating each syllable.
“You have to chew first,” Matthew explained. “And swallow!”
Jacob did as instructed, took a big sip of the lemonade and then said, “Danki, Hannah. Hit the spot.”
“Looks as if actual construction on this playhouse is slow getting started.”
“Measure twice, cut once,” Matthew explained.
“We’ve managed to mark off the dimensions and unload my tools.”
“You brought all that lumber in your buggy?”
“Nein. The store in town delivered it. I guess you didn’t hear the truck.”
“I guess I didn’t.”
“It was this big,” Matthew said, holding his arms out wide.
“The playhouse will go up quickly,” Jacob assured her. “I’ll begin the base of the structure today. The walls will go up tomorrow, and the roof and final details the third day.”
“Kind of amazing that a child’s toy takes so long to build.” Hannah held up a hand and shook her head at the same time. “I did not mean that the way it sounded. It’s only that when you consider we can build a barn in one day, it seems funny that a playhouse takes three.”
“Sure, ya. But this isn’t a barn, and, as you can see, young Matthew and I are the only workers.”
“I’m going to help,” Matthew exclaimed, reaching for another cookie.
Hannah’s son was rambling on now, explaining that he could mark the wood before Jacob made the cut and hand him nails as he hammered.
“Wait a minute, Matt. We have therapy tomorrow.”
“But—”
“Nein. Do not argue with me.”
“Ya, but this is kind of therapy.”
“What time is Matthew’s appointment?” Jacob asked, recognizing the escalating disagreement for what it was. Hadn’t he argued in the same way when he was a young lad? Maybe not over physical therapy appointments, but there was always something to pull him away from what he’d wanted to do—fishing, searching for frogs, climbing trees.
“Matthew is scheduled for therapy three afternoons a week—Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday.”
“That’s perfect, because I need help tomorrow morning.”
Matthew and Hannah both swiveled to look at him.
“In the afternoon, I’ll be doing other stuff that an apprentice isn’t allowed to do. But the morning?” Jacob rubbed his hand up and down his jawline as if he needed to carefully consider what he was about to say. Finally he grinned and said, “Mornings will be perfect.”
“Yes!” Matthew raised a hand for Jacob to high-five. “I gotta go inside and tell Mammi.”
Without another word, he reversed the direction of his chair and wheeled toward the house.
“That was kind of you,” Hannah said.
“Actually, he is a big help to me.”
Instead of arguing, she again pressed her fingers to her lips. Was it so she could keep her emotions inside? Stop her words? Protect her feelings?
“It’s only a little thing, Hannah. I’m happy to do it. It’s plain to see that Matthew is a special young man.”
She picked up the plate of cookies and stared down at it. “He never eats more than one cookie. In fact, he often passes on snacks and desserts. Today he ate two and drank a full glass of lemonade.”
“Is that a problem?”
He thought she wouldn’t answer. She glanced at him and then her gaze darted out over the area where construction had not yet begun. “The doctors said that the steroids might suppress his appetite, but that it was best to encourage him to eat more.”
“And what purpose do the steroids serve?”
“They’re supposed to decrease swelling around the spinal cord.” She placed the plate on the tray and transferred the empty lemonade glasses to it, as well. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you with the details.”
“Do I look bored?”
She sat on the picnic bench then, staring back toward the house, seemingly lost in her worries over Matthew. “The last thing we needed is him losing weight. Then there are the other complications...”
“Such as?”
“Children with spinal cord injuries often struggle with pneumonia and other breathing disorders. Secondary infections are always a worry—it’s why I was afraid for him to help you. If he were to get a cut or take a nasty fall, it could spiral into something worse.”
“It must be a lot for you to monitor.”
“Matthew needs all his strength, even when it comes in the form of oatmeal cookies.”
“I’d like to ask what happened, but I know from personal experience that sometimes you feel like sharing and sometimes you don’t.”
Hannah jerked her head up. She seemed to study his scars for a moment and then she nodded once. “It’s true. Sometimes I want to talk about it, need to talk about it, but then other times...”
“I’m listening, if today is one of those days you want to talk.”
She pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. “There’s not really that much to tell. David and I bought a farm in Wisconsin, after we were married. Life was difficult but gut. Matthew came along—a healthy baby boy. My husband was out harvesting, and Matthew was riding up on the bench seat with him. This was a year ago...one year next week.”
“What happened?”
“There was a snake coiled in the grass. The work horse nearly stepped on it. He reared up, throwing both David and Matthew. David was killed instantly when the harvester rolled over him. I suppose because he was smaller, Matthew was thrown farther. Otherwise he would have been killed, as well.”
“Instead he was injured.”
“He suffered a complete spinal cord break.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Jacob allowed silence to fill the hurting places between them. Finally he asked, “Surgeries?”
“Ya—two. The first was for the initial diagnosis, to evaluate and stabilize the fractured backbone. The second was a follow-up to the first.”
“And you had to handle it all alone.”
“Of course I didn’t.” Now her chin came up and when she glanced at him, Jacob saw the old stubbornness in her eyes. “My church helped me, my sister came to stay awhile and then...then my parents suggested I move home.”
“Family is gut.”
“Ya, it is, except that our being here is a drain on them.”
Jacob was unsure how to answer that. He didn’t know Claire or Alton Beiler well, but he was certain they didn’t consider Hannah and Matthew to be a drain. It was plain from the way they interacted that they wanted their daughter and grandson at home with them.
“I’m happy to have Matthew working with me, Hannah, but only if it’s okay with you. I promise to be very careful around him.”
She didn’t answer. Instead she nodded once, gathered up the tray and followed her son into the house.
Leaving Jacob standing in the afternoon sunshine, wondering what else he could do to lighten the burden she carried, wondering why it suddenly seemed so important for him to do so.
He needed to stay focused on his business, on making enough money to pay an accountant before the audit was due, on the other playhouses he would build after this. But instead, as he went back to work, he found himself thinking of a young boy with dirt smeared across his nose and a beautiful mother who was determined to keep others at arm’s length.
