A Hope for Hannah (14 page)

Certain she had already eaten elk meat at Betty’s place last summer, Hannah jumped into the conversation. “It’s okay, Mom. Betty has cooked it too.”

“Betty?”
Kathy’s horror seemed to only increase.

“You probably ate some when you visited her last,” Hannah said as calmly as she could. She almost wanted to laugh at her mother’s reluctance.

“See?” Roy said, his voice triumphant. “That settles it. We’re having elk meat for supper.”

“Well, I suppose I could try it,” Kathy said, still eying the plastic bag of meat suspiciously.

“And Mr. Brunson is coming for supper because it’s his meat,” Jake said. “I invited him.”

“But I hadn’t planned on an extra person for dinner,” Hannah protested, a thousand thoughts of cherry pies, salads, and other fixings running through her mind.

Kathy rallied first. “It won’t be much, I promise you that.”

“Just the meat and some gravy,” Roy said, a gleam in his eye. “It has to be tender, though.”

Kathy glared at him. “That may be all it will be. If it’s tough, don’t say you weren’t warned.”

When Hannah and Kathy were finished with it, the meat wasn’t tough. They boiled and then fried it on the stove, using the extra wood Jake had split and hauled in that morning.

Mr. Brunson had nothing but good things to say about the hurriedly thrown-together supper, pronouncing it among the best he had ever eaten.

“You’re just saying so,” Kathy said. Nonetheless she enjoyed the praise.

“Certainly not,” he assured her and then started to say something else but stopped abruptly, a sad look crossing his face. Hannah couldn’t tell if anyone else noticed, and the conversation soon continued.

After supper the men took turns playing checkers in the living room. Mr. Brunson proved to be quite a challenge for Roy, who considered himself an expert. Jake played once in a while “to calm them down,” he said for Kathy and Hannah’s benefit. The real matches were between Mr. Brunson and Roy. The two battled it out, one man taking the lead and then the other. The women watched with amusement.

Mr. Brunson finally proclaimed it a draw and Roy a worthy adversary. He rose from his chair and extended his hand. “I’ve got to go now, old man. You do know how to play your checkers.”

“Old man yourself,” Roy said with a great laugh. “You are good. You sure you’ve got to go?” he asked with genuine regret.

“Yes, I do. Thanks for the meal again,” he said in Kathy and Hannah’s direction.

“Nice man,” Roy said, “and can he play checkers!”

“You can be thankful to have such a good neighbor,” Kathy commented. “Anyone want coffee?”

Roy did and said so with a loud, “Of course.”

“Well, I knew
you
did,” Kathy said. “I meant the others.”

“Just get it brewing, and they’ll join in,” Roy said. “Why would anyone refuse coffee?”

“Maybe because they want to sleep sometime before morning,” Kathy said. “You’re immune to it.”

“Make the poor things decaf, then,” Roy said.

“She doesn’t have any,” Kathy said.

“I just keep regular around for visitors,” Hannah explained. “We don’t drink coffee.”

“What a shame.”

Roy was served his coffee in due course and actually got Jake to try some, “Just a splash or so in the bottom of the cup,” as Jake put it. After that Hannah had to try some at her father’s insistence. “Just in case,” he said, “Jake can’t sleep, you’ll be awake together.”

But neither Jake nor Hannah was affected by the caffeine, and both were sleepy before her parents were. Kathy shooed them to bed. “You don’t have to wait up for us. Roy and I are quite capable of putting ourselves to bed.”

After she blew out the kerosene lamp, Hannah snuggled up to Jake and decided, sleepy or not, it was time to talk about his job.

“So with this new job, we won’t move this fall?” she whispered.

“Don’t you think we can make it with the work from the hardware store?” he asked. “It’ll get us through the winter, at least. If things still don’t pick up, perhaps then we can think about a move.”

“But the winter—” she whispered.

He turned toward her. “We have to experience at least one Montana winter. Wouldn’t you always feel bad if you’d missed it now that you’re so close?”

“I don’t know about that. I used to think so.”

“It’s just hard for me to make such a choice,” he said. “I would want to do what you want. But I have to know it’s right for us.”

“I know that,” she said, “and I’m glad. But wouldn’t it be nice to be in Indiana with a good steady job? To have Mom and Dad close?”

“Yes, it would,” he said, “but we have to be sure. Maybe God wants us here.”

“Why would He want that?” she asked and sat upright in the bed. Did Jake know something she didn’t?

“I don’t know why,” Jake said. At least he sounded genuinely puzzled. “It’s just a small community here. They can always use more people.”

“You wouldn’t stay just because of that, would you?”

“No,” he said and rolled over. “I just don’t know. That’s all there is to it.”

Jake’s breathing soon evened out, and Hannah let her worries go and drifted slowly off to sleep. The distinct sound of her parent’s voices rose and fell from the living room, taking her back to her girlhood memories. It was a pleasant way to fall asleep.

Sixteen

With the prior arrangement to take Roy and Kathy to church, the driver of the van showed up early, for which Hannah was thankful. To arrive late would be an embarrassment, and blaming a van driver wouldn’t pass as an excuse.

She and Jake had decided they might as well go along with Roy and Kathy instead of driving their buggy.

They left at a quarter after eight and arrived at Mullet Troyer’s, where church was held, about half an hour later. The driver stopped short of the barnyard, uncertain where to park. The older Troyer son stepped out from the line of men and motioned for the driver to park in a grassy spot behind the barn and away from the buggies.

The group split up at the driveway. Jake and Roy joined the men in front of the barn, and Kathy and Hannah walked to the house. Betty met them at the front door with a happy “Good morning,” as she allowed her arms to linger briefly around each of their shoulders. Betty was a touchy person, and if this hadn’t been church, she probably would have given them each a hug.

“It’s sure a nice morning,” Kathy observed.

“Yes it is—just perfect for sitting inside all day,” Betty stated matter-of-factly.

That was another thing about Betty. She just said things, and usually people weren’t offended. Though everyone knew the all-day church service, which today would end with communion, would be arduous, they didn’t mention the subject. They wouldn’t say a thing even when it was a sunny fall day and they were trapped inside with their backsides flattened for six or more hours on a hard, backless board bench. Communion Sunday was supposed to be a holy time, a time of reflection on the Scriptures, one’s sins, and one’s place in life.

For a moment, Hannah remembered a minister was supposed to be ordained today. The thought was quickly lost, though, as Betty led the way around the circle of women, and each greeted them in turn.

The service then began, and when the singing time had ended, the ministers came down from upstairs and the preaching started. Bishop Nisley had the first sermon. He started with Genesis and told the story up to Noah’s escape from the flood in his ark. No notes, no Bible, just a quotation of facts and general plot line by memory.

A minister Hannah didn’t know had the next sermon. Apparently he had come along with the van load, although neither of her parents had mentioned him. He went from Noah’s entry into the new world, washed clean by the flood, up to the time of Christ’s birth.

When the hands of the living room clock advanced past twelve, Bishop Nisley dismissed them for lunch.

Because the day was so nice, everyone poured into the yard for lunch, taking the short benches they could find with them. Mullet gave others chairs until there were no more. He and his family then ate inside at the kitchen table. Kathy found a spot in the yard, and Jake and Roy, quick to grab two of the short benches while they were to be had, joined her.

Hannah found Jake’s boldness amusing today. She assumed it came from the fact Roy was along, and that gave Jake a sort of visitor’s rights. Normally, Jake would have been the last to take a bench. He would have settled, as some had to, with one of the long, awkward benches.

They ate their lunch to the chatter of voices all around them, families kept intact by the circled benches. Only when everyone was finished did general visiting occur. Several people stopped by to speak with Roy and Kathy. Eventually Bishop Nisley made an announcement from the front door that services were to resume.

The long afternoon began. Bishop Amos Yoder made his way slowly through the Gospel accounts and worked up to the crucifixion of Christ. The Amish believed the Scripture instructed them to tell the story of Christ’s suffering each time they partook of the cup and broke the bread. Only if they started at the beginning would the story make sense—or the best sense. To them, communion was a time for the best.

Two and a half hours later, Amos arrived at the end of the story and began to pass around the bread and wine. They used one cup because that was the way Christ served it. Hannah did appreciate that Bishop Nisley used a cloth to wipe the rim after each person handed the cup back to him. Some ministers didn’t. Because her back ached from the hours of sitting on a hard bench, she was glad the service had arrived at this point.

When the time came for feet washing, when normally they would be dismissed and find relief from the day-long service, Hannah noticed tension in the air. It was only then she remembered an ordination was yet to be performed. Since morning Hannah had not once thought about the ceremony, considering the matter none of her concern. There were at least ten married men in the local congregation older than Jake and several the same age as Jake. Ben and Sylvia Stoll came to mind, but she didn’t consider Ben a likely candidate. A man had to receive at least three votes to be placed in the lot.

With age and experience as measuring points, Hannah decided on the spot to vote for Henry Wengerd. She and the other women would vote along with the men because, for all their traditional norms, the Amish believed in equality of the sexes in regard to voting.

As he announced the vote was soon to be taken, Bishop Amos said it was the Lord’s will—not man’s ability—that was to guide the voting. What that meant, Hannah wasn’t certain. He then instructed them to file into the kitchen where each vote would be noted. Nothing more and nothing less, some man’s life would be altered forever by these simple instructions. Amish ordination had little to do with personal calling. The voice of the church was all that was necessary. Hannah pondered this, wondering if Henry Wengerd would consider her vote—and likely that of two others—reason enough to have his life so drastically upset.

The long line of men began to move quickly. Apparently everyone had made their minds up in record time, or perhaps they just wanted to get home. The women started, and Hannah stood up when the time came for her bench to take its turn. Sylvia Stoll, who was next in line behind Hannah, waited outside the kitchen while Hannah went up to the kitchen table and whispered Henry Wengerd’s name to Bishop Nisley.

Hannah was curious as to who else had received votes and wished Bishop Nisley didn’t have his piece of paper so well covered up. She was glad, though, that he couldn’t read her naughty thoughts. She then returned to her seat as Sylvia walked into the kitchen.

Sylvia soon joined Hannah back at their bench, and the two waited as the young girls spoke their choices to the bishop in the kitchen. Five minutes later, Bishop Amos stood up and glanced down at the paper Bishop Nisley gave him. Because there was no deacon in this young church, Bishop Nisley had brought along the books to use in the selection of the new minister. Three books were placed on the bench in preparation for the revelation of the new minister. In one of those books, a providential piece of paper had been placed. Hannah shivered at the thought.