She admitted as much to her mother one day as she was walking her to the elevator.
“Why shouldn’t it?” Her mother pulled Hannah away from the elevator. “Your heart is tender, Hannah. You’ve been through a lot in the last few years.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“And for a time you closed off your feelings.”
Hannah crossed her arms. She knew that her mother was correct, that it was an observation, not a criticism, but it was still difficult for her to think of the months following David’s death and Matthew’s accident.
“It’s one thing to bring a gift to someone.” Her mother reached out and pulled one of Hannah’s kapp strings forward. “It’s another thing entirely to spend time beside a bed, reading, simply bringing a small amount of joy into a person’s life.”
“I know it is.” She sounded petulant to her own ears, sounded like a child.
“Jacob cares about Matthew. The quickest way to any mother’s heart is to truly love her child.” With those insightful words, she kissed Hannah on the cheek and pushed the button for the elevator.
After Matthew had fallen asleep that evening, Hannah turned on the small book light Jacob had given her and scanned back through the pages of The Hobbit. She’d read it in school, probably the same year that Jacob had. Always they’d had their reading after lunch, when the teacher or one of the older students would read aloud a chapter—sometimes two if they pleaded long enough and hard enough.
Matthew was a bit young for such a big tale, and yet he seemed to enjoy Bilbo’s adventures, as well as the groups of dwarves and elves and goblins and trolls. As Hannah looked back over what Jacob had read to him a few hours earlier, she didn’t hear the tale in the voice of Bilbo Baggins, though. Instead she heard Jacob’s voice—clear and steady and strong.
She could admit to herself that she wanted that. She wanted Jacob in her life, but what she couldn’t admit, what she couldn’t begin to fathom, was why he would be interested in taking on her and Matthew.
And there it was—in the deepest part of her heart, beneath the fatigue and fear. In the place where her dreams resided, she was certain that Jacob would one day come to his senses and realize that he didn’t want the challenge of a disabled son and a mother who was emotionally scarred.
* * *
Hannah woke Friday morning with the same questions circling through her mind.
How much was the hospital bill?
How could she possibly pay it?
Was her father’s farm secure now?
Had they been able to raise enough money?
Where would they live if they were forced to move?
How would she break the news to Matthew?
Even as her heart rejoiced over the fact that Matthew was well enough to be discharged, Hannah’s mind couldn’t help rushing ahead to what was next.
“You’re exhausted is all.” Sharon had stopped by with fresh breakfast muffins. Now she sat in the chair by the window, knitting a baby blanket that was optimistically blue.
“Still hoping for a boy?”
“Ya, but if it’s a girl, I’ll give the blanket to Beth.”
“And if she has a girl?”
“Someone in our church will have a boy.” She pointed her knitting needle at Hannah. “And stop trying to change the subject.”
“Which was?”
“Your exhaustion.”
“Pretty lame subject.”
“Tell me what’s really bothering you.”
Hannah bit her bottom lip, walked to the window and stared out at the beautiful fall day. It seemed as if she’d been in this hospital for months instead of weeks. “This incident with Matthew wasn’t a solitary event.”
“Meaning?”
Hannah glanced at her son, curled on his side, soft snores coming from him. “Meaning it’s my life. This could happen again next month or next year. Or it could be something else entirely.”
“You’re saying that you’re not a safe bet.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re talking about Jacob, right? Because I know that you wouldn’t change your life, your time with Matthew...even if it meant that you could have a perfect child, a healthy husband and a life without financial problems.”
“Nein, I wouldn’t.”
“So you’re worried about Jacob.”
“I suppose.” Hannah moved over and sat on the stool next to Sharon’s chair. “Maybe you’ve hit the heart of the matter. This is my life. I am grateful to have Matthew, and somehow I will find a way to be strong for him.”
“But Jacob?”
“I can’t possibly ask him to shoulder the burdens of my life.”
“Isn’t that Jacob’s decision?”
“He might care for me...”
“Ya, that kiss in the buggy seems to suggest he does.”
“I wish I’d never told you about that.”
“And stopping by every day...bringing Matthew and you small gifts. The man is smitten.”
“Caring for someone is one thing.”
“Indeed it is.”
“Sacrificing the life you have for them, that’s another thing entirely.”
Sharon dropped her knitting into her bag, reached forward and put a hand under Hannah’s chin. “Look at me, schweschder.”
When Hannah finally raised her eyes, Sharon was smiling in her I-know-a-secret, older-sister way. “Perhaps for Jacob, you and Matthew aren’t a sacrifice. Perhaps you’re a blessing.”
* * *
Jacob puttered around his workshop all of Friday morning. By lunch he’d finished all of his projects and stored them neatly on the shelf, cleaned off his workbench, stored his tools and even swept the floor. With nothing left to do, he walked into his office, Hannah’s office, sat in her chair and asked himself for the thousandth time why she would want to marry someone like him.
He looked up when he heard a long whistle. His brother’s boots clomped across the workshop floor. He stopped in the doorway of the office. “Someone has been cleaning house.”
“How are you, Micah?”
“Gut.” He plopped down into the chair across from him. “Is today the day?”
“That Matthew comes home? Ya. Hannah thought they would release him after lunch.”
Instead of answering, Micah’s right eyebrow shot up.
“Don’t give me that look.”
“I’m just wondering—”
“I know what you’re wondering. Her parents wanted to pick them up, and...well, I thought this was a time for family.”
Micah’s smile grew.
“Are you laughing at me, bruder?”
“You remind me of a lovesick pup is all. You remind me of myself a few years ago.”
“Ya?” Jacob didn’t bother denying his observation. He felt lovesick—excited, worried, a little nauseous.
“Will she come back to work?”
“She wants to. She even asked me to bring over the box of receipts for her to work on at home until she’s sure Matthew’s strong enough to leave with her mother.” Jacob pushed the box on the floor with the toe of his work boot.
“When are you going to ask her?”
“Ask her?”
“To marry you.”
“What makes you think I am?”
“So you’re not?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So you are.”
“Ya, only... I want to wait for the right time.”
Micah sat forward, crossed his arms on the desk and studied his brother. “You’re a gut man, Jacob. Mamm and Dat, they would be proud of who you’ve become.”
Jacob had to look away then, because they were the words he’d needed to hear for quite some time. When had he become so emotional? He felt like he walked through each da
y without enough skin, as if his every feeling was displayed on the surface. Maybe that was because he’d spent so long hiding behind his scars. He wasn’t sure if knowing Hannah had changed him or if time had, and he didn’t want to go back, but he hadn’t learned how to deal with the deluge of emotions.
He cleared his throat and said, “I thought I’d give her a few weeks to settle in. I don’t want to rush her and she has to be exhausted, plus...”
“You’re thinking about this all wrong.”
“I am?”
Micah tapped the desk. “She wants to be here, working with you.”
“You can’t know that.”
“She wants you in her life, Jacob.”
“If I was certain—”
“Waiting will only cause her to worry that you don’t want the same thing.”
Jacob stared out the window and thought of his brother’s words. Hannah did seem worried, preoccupied even. She also seemed so happy to see him. Was she concerned that one day he’d simply stop coming by? Was she worried that he’d realize the awesome responsibility it would be to father Matthew? Did she think that one day he might turn tail and run?
“When did you become so wise?”
“I’ve been working on it.”
“What if she says no?”
“She won’t.”
“But what if she does?”
“Better to know now. Then you can move on.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“You’re getting your buggy in front of your horse.”
Jacob jumped up. “You’re right.”
“It’s wunderbaar to hear you say that.”
“I’m going over there right now, and I’m going to ask her.”
“Maybe you should shave first.”
“Gut idea.”
“A haircut wouldn’t hurt, either.”
“I don’t have time for a haircut.”
“You only ask a woman to marry you once. Why not look your best?”
“Should I wash my buggy too?”
“Wouldn’t hurt.”
“I was kidding.”
“So was I.”
Jacob stopped in the doorway. “Shouldn’t I take her flowers or something?”
Micah ran his fingers through his beard, tilted his head to the left and then the right. Finally he said, “Gut idea. In fact, Emily already thought of it.”
“She did?”
“There’s a basket of fresh-cut wildflowers by the door.”
“For me?”
“For Hannah.”
“That’s what I meant.”
“But you can say they’re from you. Emily asked me to bring them over so you’d have something to take with you.”
“How did she know I was going to see Hannah?”
Micah shrugged. “Don’t bother trying to understand women, Jacob. Just be grateful that Gotte created them.”
* * *
Hannah’s mother and father arrived at the hospital before noon.
“I get to go home,” Matthew declared.
“So we heard.” Alton stuck both of his thumbs under his suspenders. “Didn’t realize you had so much to take with you. We might need another buggy.”
“Jacob made all of those things for me.”
“Did he, now?”
“Were you kidding?” Matthew pulled in a big breath. He was better, but still weak from the ordeal of the past two weeks. “Do we have enough room?”
“He was kidding,” Hannah’s mother assured him. “I even brought a backpack to put them in.”
She set the bag made from blue denim on Matthew’s bed.
“I can’t believe you still have that thing,” Hannah said. “I haven’t seen it in years.”
“Why would I throw it away? I knew Matthew would need it soon.”
“Was it yours, Mamm?”
“It was.” She ran her thumb over the shoulder strap. Thinking of her school days, when she was young and innocent and naive, reminded her of how much had happened since then. The surprising thing was that she didn’t feel angry like she did before. She would always miss David, and she wished that Matthew hadn’t been involved in the accident, but this was the life she’d been given, and she was grateful for it.
Despite what she’d shared with her sister earlier that morning, she was grateful.
“I need to go downstairs for a few minutes. Can you two help Matthew pack up?”
“Sure thing,” her mother said.
But her dad stepped out into the hall with her. “I know you’ve been worried about the farm.”
“Ya, I have.”
“I appreciate all you’ve done, Hannah. You and your schweschders.”
“You wouldn’t have needed our help if it wasn’t for—”
Hannah stopped talking when her father stepped directly in front of her. He placed a hand on both sides of her face like he’d done when she was a child. His touch stopped the whirlwind of thoughts rattling through her mind.
Once he was sure that she was focused on him, he smiled and said, “We’re gut.”
“You...you had enough money?”
“We had enough. You don’t have to worry about the bank loan. I stopped by the bank on the way here, and I paid all the back payments. We even had a little extra. If you don’t want to keep working for Jacob, you can stay home. If that’s what you want to do.”
“I enjoy the work,” she admitted. “There is less to do now, though. Perhaps Jacob would let me work only two days a week, the days Matthew doesn’t have physical therapy.”
“That’s a gut idea.”
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you, Dat.”
“And your mother and I love you.”
Those words echoed in her ears as she made her way down to the business office. She hadn’t wanted to bring up Matthew’s hospital bill. Her parents didn’t need another thing to worry about. They had enough on their plates. Still, her heart was heavy as she checked in with the receptionist and sat waiting for her name to be called. It seemed every time she solved one problem another popped up. She knew from past experience that the hospital bill would be in the thousands, maybe tens of thousands.
She’d sunk into quite a depression when they finally escorted her back to a small, neat office. The woman’s name tag said Betty, and she offered Hannah coffee or water.
“Nein. Matthew is waiting to go home, so I should hurry.”
“I understand. Have a seat and we’ll go over this quickly.”
Betty was matronly, probably in her sixties, and she wore her gray hair in a bun. She paused and looked at Hannah when she spoke, and her smile seemed to go all the way to her eyes.
“I’m so glad to hear that Matthew’s doing well.”
“Ya, Gotte is gut.”
“All the time.” Betty smiled broadly and then she opened the file.
“I have a copy for you of the printout listing the charges for Matthew’s care.” The stack she picked up was at least an inch thick and held together with a large binder clip. She slid the papers across the desk.
Hannah paged quickly through the printout to the last page and nearly gasped at the final amount. She’d known it would be high, but she hadn’t expected...
“There must be a mistake,” she said.
“I assure you, I went through the billing line by line. It’s all correct.”
“Nein. That’s not what I meant. The...the total is wrong.”
Betty put on her reading glasses hanging from a chain and turned to the last page of her copy of the bill.
“It says we owe nothing, but I haven’t... I haven’t paid anything yet. So this must be wrong.”
Betty pulled off her glasses and sat back. “No one told you?”
&nbs
p; “Told me what?”
“Kosair Charities paid for Matthew’s bill.”
“Why would they do that?”
Betty shrugged. “It’s what they do. It’s part of their mission. They understand that having a child with an SCI can be a heavy financial burden, and they try to help those who need it.”
“So I don’t owe anything?”
“Not a penny.”
Hannah brushed at the tears streaming down her face, and Betty jumped up and fetched a box of tissues.
Five minutes later, Hannah made her way back to Matthew’s room, carrying the envelope in her purse that stated their bill was paid in full.
* * *
Hannah should have taken a nap like her mother suggested, but she was too tired to sleep, which made no sense.
It felt so good to be home, to see familiar things around her, to be back in the Amish world. She kept walking through the house—looking out the window, appreciating the light breeze, relishing the lack of flickering fluorescent light, drinking her mamm’s fresh coffee.
Matthew was asleep.
Her mother was in the kitchen, putting together a casserole for dinner.
Her father was in the barn.
Hannah walked out on the front porch, watching for...what was she watching for?
Then a buggy turned down their lane, and she realized it was Jacob and she knew that what she’d been watching for was coming toward her.
When he handed her the basket of flowers, she laughed. “Jacob Schrock, did you pick these?”
“Nein. Emily did.”
“Well, it was very sweet of her and you.”
“How’s Matthew?”
“He’s gut—asleep right now.”
“Would you like to take a walk?”
The day was mild enough that she wore a light sweater, but the sun was shining, and the leaves had fallen in a riotous display of reds, greens and gold.
“I’d love that.”
As they walked, their shoulders practically touching, the leaves crunching beneath their feet, Hannah felt the last of the tension inside of her unwind. She was home, and that was good. Home and family and friends were what she needed.
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