A Hope for Hannah (36 page)

“Yes, those were the days,” Jake said as Hannah nestled even closer.

They sat there comfortably, lost in their thoughts until finally Hannah got up and fixed their Christmas supper. It was a simple meal, and they ate it early. Almost immediately after the meal, Jake said he was ready for bed even at this early hour.

Hannah stayed up for another hour, rereading her mother’s letter and then the two chapters from the Bible Jake had read. In the peace and sleepiness that followed, she joined Jake in bed.

Thirty-nine

Having gone to bed early the night before, Jake woke up early Monday morning and got up right away. He wanted to stop in at Betty and Steve’s house on the way into Libby. He seemed to think it necessary to make contact with someone because they hadn’t been to church.

Hannah went out to the barn, readied Mosey, and then pushed the buggy into the driveway. The snow was still abundant, covering a quarter of the wheels in places. Jake hobbled out with his broomstick crutch, stuck it under the backseat, and climbed in. Hannah had Jake hold the lines as she went back inside for an extra blanket.

The snow had stopped falling in the night, and the morning sky dawned clear blue. Jake took care not to bump his foot against the buggy dash by holding it with one hand when they turned and drove out onto the main road.

Betty raced out the kitchen door when they pulled up, the straps of her boots still loose. “Where
were
you two?” she exclaimed before Hannah got the buggy door open. “I had to stay around the house all day yesterday. Steve’s relatives stayed much later than planned.”

“We survived, but that’s about all,” Hannah said grimly.

“Were you snowed in?” Betty asked. “That’s what everyone thought on Sunday.”

“Kind of,” Hannah grinned. “Jake sprained his ankle Saturday night. We’re on our way to the doctor now.”

“Sprained it?” Betty asked, her voice full of concern. “Is it broken? How do you know it’s just sprained?”

“So you
did
have church?” Jake asked. “There’s no way I could have gotten out until the plow opened our road.”

“That’s what we figured,” Betty said. “The foot, though, how bad is it?”

“Mr. Brunson looked at it,” Hannah said. “He thought it probably wasn’t broken.”

“What does Mr. Brunson know,” Betty said. “The foot needs to be seen by a doctor.”

“Yes, we know,” Hannah agreed. “We’re on our way. Dr. Lisa will probably see him. Think we should call her office ahead of time?”

“I’d just go in,” Betty said. “You might have to wait a little. You should have tried to go in right away.”

“Jake didn’t want to,” Hannah said. “Besides, the snow and the holiday—”

“So like a man,” Betty huffed.

Jake urged Mosey to go faster as they drove into Libby and finally arrived at Dr. Lisa’s office. Hannah tied the horse while Jake hopped toward the door without his broom. She caught up with him in time to hold the door open.

Inside, Jake told the receptionist what had happened and was soon taken back for an X-ray. When he came out, he told Hannah the doctor hadn’t seen him yet and that he was supposed to wait.

A short time later, Dr. Lisa invited Jake and Hannah to come back to the examining room. She showed them the X-ray, confirmed that it was just a sprain, and instructed Jake to keep his ankle wrapped and take a pair of crutches home with him. He would be good to go in a week or so.

“And how about you, Hannah?” Dr. Lisa asked when she was done with Jake’s instructions. “Are you doing okay?”

“I think so,” she replied, not really sure if she was or not.

“That’s a good girl. Take care of yourself.” Then she was gone.

Hannah stayed in the buggy while Jake went into the hardware store, looking quite capable with his new crutches.

When a good twenty minutes passed and Jake failed to come out, Hannah was almost ready to tie up the horse and go see what was keeping him. Surely Mr. Howard hadn’t persuaded him to do any work today.

Just then the hardware door opened, and she saw first the crutches and then Jake move out of the building. He swung smoothly across the parking lot and used his good foot to hop onto the buggy step. Hannah handed him the reins, and they were off.

On the edge of town she glanced over at Jake who had said nothing since he got in the buggy.

“Does the ankle hurt?” she asked.

“Mr. Howard let me go,” he said simply.

“What?” A feeling of alarm surged through her.

Jake just nodded, his eyes on the road.

“Why?” she demanded. “I thought you were doing so well.”

“Too well, I guess,” Jake said grimly. “His nephew is taking over the furniture making.”

“How can he do that?”

“There’s no reason why he can’t. I worked for him.”

“But it was you who made the furniture.”

“Mr. Howard says anyone can make furniture.” Jake’s face was glum. “I don’t believe that, but that’s just what he said. He said I can’t possibly keep up with the demand while I’m hobbling around like this. He figures his nephew can work faster than I can—and probably cheaper—although he didn’t say that.”

“But he gave you a bonus for being so good.”

“Maybe he was already planning on this and was trying to make it easier.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Jake shook the reins as if to emphasize some point. What point, Hannah wasn’t sure.

When they got home, Jake hopped through the doorway while Hannah took the horse to the barn and tried to think of something for lunch, her mind still in a spin. Jake was in the kitchen when she came in, his crutches under his arm.

“What are you doing?” she asked him.

“Maybe I can do something in the kitchen,” he said, and his voice nearly broke.

She took him by the arm into the living room and made him sit on the couch.

“We’ll make it somehow,” she said, putting her arm on his shoulder.

“I suppose so,” he said, his eyes dull.

“You’ll think of something,” she said, desperately wondering what that could be.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Jake’s kiss on her cheek. “You’re too good for me,” he said, his voice catching again.

“No,” she said, blushing and allowing herself to be pulled into Jake’s embrace.

They held each other for a long moment and looked out the cabin window at the snow. The barn stood out in sharp relief against the blue sky.

The snow didn’t melt all week because the temperature rarely rose above freezing, and then on Saturday another storm moved in. Thankfully, the snowplow came up their road sometime after midnight, which allowed them to attend church. Jake didn’t have to preach, for which Hannah was glad. All week, his troubled face had conveyed the stress they both felt. She couldn’t imagine what kind of sermon he would preach had it been his turn.

To pass his time, Jake read most of the daylight hours away and said little about what they would do about their future. What
could
he
say? It might take till spring to find more work—if even by then. At least for now, their mortgage was paid up, and they had a little food stored. They could eke out an existence for a while, she supposed. But tomato soup was sure going to become boring, that was for sure.

Hannah soon found out she was wrong about Jake’s lack of a plan. He started to exercise his ankle the following week, testing it carefully before he placed weight on it. That was his plan number one—getting better.

Three days later, he limped out to the barn. When he stayed out there for a good hour, Hannah thought she had better check on him. She found him measuring the back side of the lean-to, which was attached to the barn, and scratching figures with paper and pencil.

“I’m turning this into a shop,” he announced when she walked in. That was apparently plan number two.

“But money? It takes money to start up something like this,” she reminded him.

He nodded. “Yes, I know. But maybe only a little if I’m willing to start small. I can borrow a few tools from John and Steve until I sell some pieces.”

“You’re not serious?”

When he turned, she knew by the set of his jaw that he was.

In the days ahead, Jake constructed a makeshift workshop by nailing backboard to a few simple stud walls with tools borrowed from Steve. He then installed a wood stove to heat the small shop. Jake’s only investments were in the wood and parts he needed.

Hannah started to take his lunch to him in the
shop room,
as Jake called it. His breakfast and supper, he ate in the house.

A few days into the construction, Mr. Brunson stopped by for a visit. Hannah directed him out to the shop room and then went back to the laundry. She watched, though, as the two men spoke. Mr. Brunson must have asked Jake something because she saw him shake his head.

A few days later, Mr. Brunson visited again. What he and Jake talked about was unknown to Hannah, although she thought she saw Jake shake his head a little less vigorously this time.

When yet another hard blizzard blew in, Betty said this was the hardest winter she had been through. Toward the end of January, another blizzard arrived, this time from Canada. All this and the Christmas snow hadn’t even begun to melt.