“Your mother tells me you’re writing to Hannah Miller,” Enos began.
Sam looked up from The Old Farmers’ Almanac and nodded.
“You’re serious, then?”
“Yes.” Sam nodded again. “It’s pretty serious, I would say.” Then he asked, “Don’t you like her, Dad?”
“No, no, it’s not that,” Enos said quickly. “She’s a fine girl as far as I know. She comes from a good family. I was just wondering if Hannah’s right for you. It seems to me that a real nice farm girl would be the better way to go.”
“Hannah knows how to farm,” Sam said.
“Well, maybe she does,” Enos said, “but her father’s only a part-time farmer. He doesn’t seem to make enough of a living at it…to stay home full-time. He has that job at the factory now.”
“What has that got to do with Hannah?”
Enos thought for a long moment before he responded. “It might reflect on her, that’s all. I’m just concerned about you. When we leave you the farm,” he said and motioned toward where Laura worked in the kitchen, “you’ll need a wife who was raised on a farm. You’ll need a wife who knows what it’s like to get up early, milk cows, and put up the hay…all in the hot sun sometimes. Farm life is hard. You know that, Sam. Just make sure you choose wisely. That’s all I’m saying.”
Sam nodded, his face sober. “I will think about it, but I really feel that this is the right thing to do. Maybe when Hannah comes home, she could come over to visit and maybe help out some here on the farm.” Sam waved his hand around as if to indicate the more than two hundred acres surrounding them. “We can make sure then that she’s comfortable with farm life.”
“That would be wise,” Enos allowed, “but you also need to keep your eyes open. Don’t let feelings of love or her beauty blind your eyes. You will regret it—even if she is a decent girl.”
“I will consider it,” Sam assured his dad. “Maybe after you’ve seen more of her, you can tell me what you think.”
“When is Hannah coming home?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Sam said. “I hope by the end of summer.”
“There’s another thing I want to talk with you about,” Enos said. “I’m not quite ready to retire, but when I do, I’ve been thinking about building a smaller house down the road—on our acreage, of course—to eventually serve as our daudy haus. But until I’m ready to retire, you and your wife—whoever she is—could use it.”
“How soon were you thinking of building this?” Sam asked with obvious interest.
“Are you in such a big hurry?” Enos said with a laugh.
“You never know how things work out,” Sam said, his grin crooked. “I haven’t asked Hannah yet, though I think it’ll come to that. We’re just writing now.”
“It’s serious then.” Enos pondered the situation. “I don’t think we can do anything for at least two years. If you should marry before that, I guess you could move in with us and take the large upstairs bedroom. That might work for six months or so. Not much more than that. They say two women in the house—no matter how well they like each other—never works for long. I hold to that opinion myself.”
Sam nodded as if he thought this fair enough and went back to reading The Old Farmers’ Almanac.
Enos hid his surprise, got up, and walked to the kitchen. He glanced back, making sure he was out of earshot, and then approached Laura. “Sam’s really serious about this girl.”
“I’m afraid so,” Laura said.
“Do you think she’s the right one?” he asked.
“Well,” she said, “we never made decisions for any of our other children—other than they had to be in the church and all. They turned out all right. We’d better do the same for Sam, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so,” he agreed. “I guess I’m just getting jumpy in my old age.”
“Ah,” she said, chuckling, “you’re still young.”
“I am?” he said and grinned. “I wish I was, but I do need to trust God and place this into His hands. In that you are right.” He playfully kissed her on the cheek.
“This is true,” she said, grinning and lightly pushing him away.
As the sun was setting, another round of volleyball was beginning. This time Jake was on the same side as Hannah. She felt her heart thump and wondered if he’d end up placed close to her when the game began? What if she missed the ball, tripped, and tumbled down around his feet?
Since darkness threatened, Hannah had a quick hope the game might be canceled. Bishop Nisley crushed that hope when he came out of the house with two gas lanterns, lit them, and set one on top of each buggy. Perhaps they could play one more game but not much more. The lantern light simply wasn’t strong enough.
The boy who had picked Hannah for his team was also in charge of the player lineup. He started off with a rapid boy-girl-boy-girl configuration, which left Hannah in-between Bishop Nisley and Jake. Her heart sank, but there was nothing that could be done about it. A protest would only reveal that she didn’t want to stand beside Jake.
Self-consciously Hannah took her place. John was on her left and Jake on her right. As she stood closer to Jake, she could tell that her early impression that he looked like Peter had indeed been mistaken. Jake was a unique person.
From the corner of her eye, Jake appeared to be relaxed as he stood there. Taller than she was, yet he didn’t tower over her. He had an air of calm assurance about him, but his face wasn’t hardened. Perhaps he had his tender edges? He glanced toward her and briefly nodded and smiled. Hannah thought her return smile was perhaps tense, but his eyes didn’t register a reaction. They looked sad, in fact. Perhaps he was lonesome for home or had some other reason for his sorrow. She took a deep breath and tried to relax.
Someone shouted, “Test!” and the game got underway. The ball came over the net in a clean arch, arriving in the second row. It was returned easily. The ball came right back to where Hannah stood in the front row between John and Jake. She expected a commotion of waving arms in her face as one or the other tried to reach for the ball but was surprised. Clearly both John and Jake had plans to stay in their places. This was to be her play. She gathered herself together, took a deep breath, and lifted both hands. A solid swat sent it solidly back over the net.
“Hey, how about setting me next time?” Jake said.
His words shocked Hannah out of her shyness. “Will you set for me too?”
“Of course not,” he said. “You just set the ball for tall people.”
“That’s not fair,” she retorted. “Girls want to play too.”
“And I want to win,” Jake said. “Is that fair?”
It was then that Hannah realized she had just spoken to him, and her good sense forsook her. “I guess so,” she muttered.
Jake must have noticed her flustered state of mind and softened. “I do want girls to play—so don’t pay any attention to me.”
Hannah couldn’t think of anything to say before the ball was served again. In a high arch, it passed over their heads.
“The next chance I have, I’ll set for you,” she said.
“Well, that’s settled then,” Jake said, smiling. “Now we can really play.”
Well, indeed, Hannah thought. She had talked to this boy, and for some reason she felt her heart pounding. Now what did all that mean? Stop imagining things, she told herself firmly. If he wants to talk to me, then I’ll talk to him. It means nothing. I’m not going to dream again.
So when he asked, “You’re from Indiana?” she could answer him without any nervousness.
“I’m here for the summer, jah,” she said. He had a nice self-assured, noninvasive attitude, and Hannah relaxed. He was also an excellent player, and she repeatedly set the ball for him, which he smacked over the net to the groans of the other team.
Eventually John grumbled that he didn’t get to play, and so Hannah set the next ball she could reach for him. Hannah laughed when John fumbled her set, sending the volleyball
into the net instead of over it.
“See, that’s why she’s setting them up for me,” Jake announced loudly.
“You young people!” John protested. “You don’t have to laugh about it.”
“We’re not,” Jake told him. “We just want to win.”
“Here it comes again,” John announced. “Stop talking and play!”
They stood at the ready, and Hannah saw that the ball was coming her way again. She confidently lifted her hands and sent the volleyball sideways to Jake in a beautiful high arch.
Effortlessly Jake rose into the air and brought his arm into a round sweep that sent the volleyball just over the net and at a forty-five degree angle into the ground on the other side.
This action was greeted with howls of agony from the other side and smiles from Jake’s side.
“We get him next game!” someone from across the net shouted.
“There will be no next game. It’s too dark,” John said. “If we don’t hurry, this game won’t get done.”
As much as such a game can be hurried, they hurried. Hannah soon rotated into the back row and never made it back up front before the game point was called.
Apparently the interaction between Hannah and Jake had been so natural that no one thought anything of it—except one person.
On the way home, Betty said casually, “I saw you and Jake talking during the game. You seemed like old friends. Are you sure that you two don’t know each other?”
“Never saw him until he was here the other Sunday,” Hannah said.
“Well, I’m glad of that. I would hate to see your mother disappointed,” Betty said from the front seat of the buggy.
“You women always imagine things,” Steve said. “They seemed fine to me.”
“It did seem like we knew each other,” Hannah spoke up. She figured it might be best to say something, but she really didn’t want to have to explain that Jake had reminded her of Peter.
Unbeknownst to Hannah, Jake received a similar inquiry inside the Nisley house. “Jake, you seem to know Hannah,” Elizabeth commented while they sat at the kitchen table.
“No, I never saw her until I was here the other Sunday.”
“That’s interesting,” John said. “You both seemed quite comfortable around each other.”
Jake was going to say he didn’t know why but stopped himself. He did know why. Hannah was very unlike Eliza.
“Hannah’s a nice girl,” he said aloud. He figured he should grant them something.
“That she is,” Elizabeth agreed.
“I’ll head for bed,” Jake told them, “if that’s okay.”
“Ach,” Elizabeth said and laughed, “you don’t have to stay up for us old people.”
“Thanks for the wonderful evening,” Jake said and got up to leave.
“Are you staying for the singing tomorrow night?” John asked.
“I think so,” he said. “Hopefully someone can give me a ride back on Sunday night.”
John nodded. “I will see what we can do.”
Sunday arrived, and Jake pulled into the barnyard where church was held with the Nisley’s, and Hannah arrived a few minutes later with the Masts. As Hannah got out of the buggy, she casually searched the line of boys by the barn for Jake. When she saw him, an unexpected thrill went through her, causing her to quickly glance the other way. Somehow she would have to keep her emotions under control. She simply couldn’t allow things to get out of hand again, as they had with Peter.
Bishop Nisley gave the main sermon, which Hannah thought was good and helped her keep her mind off of Jake. The Bishop spoke about the life of Jesus and our need to accept Him as our Savior.
“It is a personal decision,” the bishop explained. “Jesus doesn’t look at us as numbers or as pages in a book. We are all individuals to Him. Each of us, as a person, has our own needs and faults. Yet Jesus cares about all of us and knows what our strengths and weaknesses are. We need to let Him into our lives beyond that one decisive moment—he needs to be part of every moment of every day of our lives. Daily we must take up our cross, deny ourselves, and follow Him.”
His words made Hannah think about the baptism she still needed. Maybe she should ask for it here among Betty’s mountains. The thought brightened her mood. That would be wonderful and something special to remember from her summer in the West. Practically speaking, however, Hannah wondered whether the baptism could be done. From the looks of things, six months of instruction classes could hardly be worked into the time she had left here.
On the off chance that it could, Hannah asked Betty, who then suggested Steve talk to Bishop Nisley. Word came back to Hannah that a summer instruction class had been organized and two of the local boys joined. Bishop Nisley told Hannah privately that the ministers were more than glad to make special provisions for her to start the class late and also complete it by the time she needed to return home. Hannah thanked him and eagerly accepted.
Jake found his attention drifting toward Hannah much more than he wished, especially in the evening when the hymn sing started. Maybe it was because the Amish church services felt so familiar or perhaps it happened because Hannah was a beautiful girl.
Hannah attracted him in a way no girl had before. It occurred to him that he had never before noticed this kind of girl. Eliza—the infamous one—had always been strong, and so he did little but follow. Hannah wasn’t like that at all. She would draw on him to lead, and he liked the way that made him feel.
Stop it, Jake told himself. I’m doing this because I’m trying to get away from the memory of Eliza. Jake forced his attention back to the present and joined in the songs, his fine voice rising and falling in unison with the rest. Every now and then, the few attending Mennonites tried to sing the song’s different parts. This practice was frowned upon where Jake came from and apparently here also because he heard none of the Amish youth doing it.
When the hymn sing closed with the arrival of nine o’clock, Jake saw John whisper to one of the Mennonite men. As the boys filed out, John came over to Jake and told him that he had a ride back that night to his cabin in the mountains.
Twenty-two
Sam’s next letter arrived on Wednesday along with the monthly magazine Young Companion from Pathway Publishers, the Amish publishing house. Hannah decided to wait to read the letter until after supper, when she had time alone in her room. Whatever the letter contained, she hoped she had enough emotional energy left to deal with it.
The day had gone well. Riders arrived in a steady stream and filled most of the appointment slots. Hannah watched Prince do his part; gracefully walking up the trail with whomever Hannah had decided should ride him. The horse still moved her deeply. He was indeed a prince of a horse.
On her way upstairs, Hannah picked up the envelope on the living room table along with the copy of Young Companion, which Betty had clearly left for her. Apparently there was something she was supposed to read in it.
Settled into her room, Hannah laid the magazine on the dresser table and then opened the envelope. The shiny paper, as she pulled it out, seemed almost to glow in the light of her kerosene lamp.
As Hannah read the words, she could have cried from the weight of Sam’s interest in her. He was so certain. If only she was.
Yet this was what seemed right. There certainly were no crazy dreams involved—as there had been with Peter—just the godly virtues of faithfulness and obedience. Surely that was enough.
Hannah glanced up and caught sight of the magazine on the dresser table, its plain white paper softened by the light. The drawing of a buggy and horse on the front cover outlined the title story, “Struggling to Know.” She had always liked the magazine. Perhaps this story was the one Betty had hoped she’d read.
Hannah reached for the magazine. Quickly she scanned the story and found that it was about a young girl named Naomi who struggled to find the will of God in her courtship. As it turned out, Naomi wasn’t a bad girl. In fact, she was a good girl who h
ad joined the church two years earlier. Naomi’s mistake in the story was to have yelled at a cow because its tail swished across her face as she was milking it. Her yell so scared the cow that it kicked over the milk bucket. Naomi knew she was in the wrong even though her face burned from the swish of the cow’s muddy tail. The story went on to relate how sorry Naomi felt about this. Even though the spilled milk did not cost a huge amount of money, Naomi’s father told her the real loss was the damage done to Naomi’s character by lack of self-control.
“Well,” Hannah muttered, “I wish that’s all I’d done.”
Naomi did have one other big problem. She was just sure she was not in love with Johnny, the boy she was dating.
Johnny was also a very good boy. He had never done much wrong. He drove his sisters regularly to the hymn sings, even when it was out of the way. He also saw that they had a ride home before he left for Naomi’s house on Sunday nights.
Johnny’s father wasn’t rich. In fact, his family had to pinch and save for anything they wanted. This did not come from laziness on either Johnny’s or his father’s part. His father had been laid up for the past year with a back injury he sustained from their large Belgium horse. The horse was actually gentle, as most Belgiums are, but an unfortunate accident had occurred when the horse stumbled on winter ice.
Although Johnny’s father was expected to recover fully, it would take some time. In the meantime, Johnny took the full responsibility for the family farm upon himself. He toiled to the best of his ability, but it was a lot of hard work and little income.
Naomi knew all of this and greatly admired Johnny for it. She also knew there couldn’t be a better husband than Johnny anywhere. Yet why did she feel the way she did? Or rather, why did she not feel what she was supposed to feel? Any girl would be glad to have Johnny interested in her.
But according to the story, Naomi had gotten hold of some English romance novels that led her to conclude there should be more feeling in her relationship with Johnny. Naomi’s mother told her to throw the books away. She said that those people didn’t live in the real world. People just wrote that stuff to make money off of other people’s dreams. Naomi tried to the best of her ability to forget about what she had read, but it didn’t help much. She would still remember the story and how the girls in love felt. Surely she was supposed to feel that way too.
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