A Dream for Hannah (13 page)

Hannah listened intently. Other than feeling a deep terror, her whole body felt numb. She was quite sure that she was worthy of being burned to a crisp on the spot.
If I hadn’t made him mad, he wouldn’t have driven so fast. Now nothing, for all eternity, can bring him back.

Hannah couldn’t have cried if she wanted to; she was too cold. Even in this room of more than 600 people, she shivered. Kathy glanced at her, concerned.

Alvin now came to the end of his sermon. “It is only by the mercy of God that any of us can ever stand before the Almighty God. If He had not sent His only Son, the beloved and holy Jesus, then all of us would be without hope. It is by the blood of Jesus, shed on that cruel cross, that our sins can be washed away. But we must all turn from our sins to Him. May God have mercy on us all.”

With that Alvin took his seat, and Kathy pulled the shivering Hannah close to her. The ushers stood and began to escort the lines of people past the closed casket. One by one they filed by until only the family was left. Those seated inside the house returned to their seats while those from the barn stood outside waiting.

Peter’s immediate family, his father, mother, two brothers, and three sisters, rose from their front row seats and gathered around for their last goodbyes. More than a thousand people waited patiently for whatever time was needed by the family.

The bowed shoulders and tears of Peter’s family were not what startled Hannah. This was a common enough sight among the Amish. It was the English girl who rose with them to stand around Peter’s casket. Hannah—seated to the right of her mother—hadn’t noticed her before.

There was only one explanation for why a nonfamily member would accompany the family at these last moments. He or she would have to be either engaged or a longtime steady of the departed. Before Hannah’s shocked eyes stood Alice, her hospital roommate. Alice stood with Peter’s family around the casket.

All morning no tears had gotten past the numb coldness of Hannah’s body. Now the sight of Alice caused the dam to break. She sobbed silently until her shoulders were shaking.

Kathy looked ready to take Hannah’s hand and lead her outside lest she distract the family at this tender moment. Already several heads had turned in their direction. Kathy squeezed Hannah’s hand, and Hannah managed to choke back the sobs.

Somehow they got through the moment until the family found their seats again. The ushers then formed lines to move the people out to prepare for the trip to the graveside service. Hannah found herself able to get to her feet, but as they left the house, the tears began again.

Roy noticed Hannah’s distress from across the room on the men’s side, and he headed immediately for the horse and buggy. He hitched up and pulled the buggy in line, and they were soon on their way home with the still weeping Hannah in the backseat.

Eleven

Surrounded by the majestic mountain ranges of northwestern Montana, the Greyhound bus pulled hard in the curves as black smoke poured out of its tail pipe. Jake sat in the back, his regular seat for three days now. At the last stop, while seated in the restaurant with his straw hat on the table beside him, he realized he had to make a decision soon. Enough time had been spent on this bus. Enough troubles had muddled through his head, and only taking action could bring back a feeling of sanity.

Back in the bus, the memories flooded his mind, memories he wished to forget—summers in the hay field, autumns setting the oat shocks until his arms burned, mornings getting up at five to milk, and, of course, memories of Eliza.

He let his head rest against the back of the seat. The whine of the motor, as it tackled another steep incline, barely registered with him. He could only think of Eliza. In the summer, her face turned bronze from her work outside on the farm. In winters it turned a golden blush—softer but as beautiful a face as he had ever seen.

He had never looked at another girl after meeting Eliza. There was simply no need. She was perfect. Her smile left him dizzy. Yes, Eliza was the one girl for him.

But now he had to struggle to force his thoughts of her to cease. He forced himself to look at the mountains passing by. He gazed at the glorious splendor, but it was all in vain. No mountains, however awesome, could compete with the memory of Eliza.

Yet, there was a chance, he told himself, if he could only find a way to forget her now. And that would mean a new start. And so he had boarded the Greyhound and would simply go until he figured it was time to stop. His ticket was good for fifteen days of bus travel, for wherever he wanted to go. But this was it. He would get off at the next town. Perhaps there he could find his new start and relief from his pain.

Surely a town would appear soon. He glanced out the window as the smatter of houses thickened.
Where am I?
He quickly pulled the map of Montana out of his backpack and searched. He hadn’t been paying attention, and so he couldn’t be sure where he was on the map.

The Greyhound slowed as more houses appeared, sputtered with one more valiant effort, and then leveled off. This was obviously a main street of some town of which he had missed the name. He saw a few passengers in rows ahead of him get their things together. They clearly knew where they were.

When the bus pulled up to the station, several passengers got off. So did Jake, leaving his straw hat on the seat.

At the bottom step, he paused. There may be Amish communities even in Montana. He might need the hat after all. He made his way back through the bus and squashed the hat vigorously onto his head. This might be a new life for him, but he would not leave his old life entirely behind—only the memory of Eliza Brunstetter.

He stood and looked around for the name of the town. Somewhere on the building there ought to be a name. His eyes found it quickly, and he spoke the word out loud, “Libby.” What a strange name for a town, but it would have to do. His mind was finally made up.

Resolutely he picked up his backpack and headed for the depot.

At the ticket counter, the attendant was very helpful. “The Sandman Motel,” he said, “is the best place to stay. Are you staying long?”

Jake nodded and then asked, “Any jobs available in the area?”

“Well, now,” the attendant said, “about the best place to start would be the Forest Service. The Kootenai National Forest is close by. They are always looking for adventurous people. You look like you might be up for an adventure.”

He grinned weakly. “I don’t know about that, but I will need a job. Where is this Forest Service office?”

“Right down on highway 2, going south out of town. You’ll come to the motel first and then the Forest Service office building.”

“Can I walk there?” he asked.

“Sure. It’s not that far.”

“Suits me,” Jake said. “Thanks for the help.”

Jake felt good about his decision. In fact, he began to laugh a little. Who would have thought that it would be in Montana when he could laugh again. With brisk steps he turned south as directed. To his right, across the plain where the town was situated, there rose those majestic mountains, their heights soaring skyward. He paused for a long look. This certainly wasn’t the flat farmlands of Iowa. Somehow those mountains called to him.

Guided by the sign’s gaudy bright letters, Jake easily found the Sandman Motel. The West was definitely different, he decided. Inside, his feet jerked to a halt at the giant grizzly bear head mounted on the wall. The mouth was wide open. Its white teeth were exposed in an angry snarl.

The man behind the counter laughed. “New in the area, I take it.”

Jake nodded. “That I am. How much per night to stay here?”

The man quoted him the rate, a number he thought was too high.

“What are your weekly rates?” he asked.

The man shook his head.

“I’ll take a room for one night, and then we’ll see from there.”

“Sign here,” the manager said after he handed back the paperwork, “and write your license plate number here.”

“No car,” he said. “Came in on the Greyhound.”

“Just your name, then.”

For a moment he hesitated. Then, glancing down, he signed his name slowly on the indicated line—Jake Byler.

“So where is the Forest Service office?” Jake asked after the man handed him the key.

“Just down the block. Can’t miss it.”

Jake nodded his thanks. “Think I’ll go up and see them once I get settled in.”

“The best of luck to you, then. They’re looking for young men this time of the year.”

“That’s what I heard.” Jake picked up his backpack. “Thanks again.”

“No problem. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’ll do that,” Jake said and went out the door to find his room. The hotel room was nothing fancy, but it would do. He opened the closet door and hung up his few items of clothing. Then he set off for the Forest Service office.

“Most certainly, young man,” the smiling, uniformed Forest Service representative said. “We do have a few immediate job openings if you’re willing to do lonely work.”

“I’m willing. What’s the job?” Jake asked. “Would it by any chance be on those mountains?” He pointed west out the window toward the range of peaks topped with snow.

“Oh, the Cabinet Mountains?” The uniformed man grinned. “You
do
want loneliness, don’t you? Well, at present there’s a position open on our eastern ridge fire lookout post. Almost to the top of the mountain…nice cabin there. As long as you work there, it can be yours. We rent them out in the off fire season.”

“Sounds good,” he nodded. “How do I apply for the job?”

“No questions about pay?” The representative lifted his eyebrows.

“No. I’ll take the job,” Jake said.

“Not so fast,” the representative said, laughing. “All applicants have to fill out an application. Fill this out,” he said, handing Jake a clipboard with official forms attached, “and we’ll go from there.”

Jake took the clipboard with him, pulled the pen out from the top, and found a seat by the front door. Carefully he wrote his name on the top of the application. When it came to his former occupation, he wrote in
farmer.
When he was asked for the phone number of the closest living relative, he wrote in the number of the Sandman Motel and a name from home. He hoped the man wouldn’t notice.

He handed in the completed form, and the representative took it with a smile. “Well, this looks great. We’ll need to take your measurements for a uniform. Let me process this—we have to do a background check on you—then come back tomorrow, and you should be all set. We’ll give you some basic training, and in a few days you should be on your post. Where are you staying?”

“The Sandman Motel.”

“Write the room phone number down, please.”

He copied it onto the paper thrust toward him and carefully kept his eyes from the completed form beside him. If the Forest Service representative noticed the same numbers on each paper, he chose not to mention it.

Kathy woke Hannah the next morning at the usual time. The girl’s mood was still subdued, but she seemed a bit better. But was she ready to resume a normal life?