A Hope for Hannah (19 page)

“Hannah?” Betty’s voice came clearly from the porch.

Relieved, Hannah rushed to open it, sure her embarrassment still showed on her face.

“Hannah,” Betty said when she opened the door, “I have to come in.”

“What?” Hannah felt alarm run through her at the expression on Betty’s face. “Is something wrong?”

Betty said nothing but pushed past Hannah and sat on the couch. She motioned for Hannah to be seated beside her.

Numbly, Hannah obeyed.

“There’s been a wreck,” Betty said simply. “It’s pretty bad, I’m afraid.”

Hannah’s heart seemed to stop at the news. “Mom and Dad?”

“Yes…well, the van they were in. A pickup truck came across the median.”

Hannah gasped and then asked, “How bad?”

“I don’t know for sure.” Betty shifted on the couch, and Hannah was certain she wasn’t telling her all she knew. Hannah reached out and grabbed her arm.

“You must tell me.”

“Someone was killed, I believe, but the state police wouldn’t release the information.”

“
Who?”
Hannah knew her fingers were digging into Betty’s arm.

“The state police called your cousin’s house in Indiana. The Mennonites. They must have taken word down to the rest of your family.”

“Did they say who was hurt…or killed?”

“No, just gave the hospital number.” Betty answered the next question before Hannah asked. “I called from the neighbor’s. Your cousin returned my call there and left a message. No one at the hospital would give information out, and they said neither of your parents was available. I couldn’t think of who else to ask for…who else was in the van.”

“There was Bishop Amos and his wife.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Betty said. “I should have known that.”

“So what should we do?” Hannah wondered out loud. “Where is the hospital?”

“In Buffalo, Wyoming. They had been driving all day.”

“We can’t go there,” Hannah voiced her thoughts.

“I don’t know. It depends how bad it is. We may have to.”

“I’ll leave a note for Jake,” Hannah decided, getting up, “or maybe we can catch him on the way home. He goes right past your place. If not, he can come over afterward.”

“That sounds good,” Betty said as she stood up.

“On top of everything else, I’ve got a cold,” Hannah added as she grabbed a tissue.

“Why does everything come at once?” Betty asked. “They were just here with us. How can this happen?”

“I don’t know,” Hannah said, equally distraught.

Carefully she wrote the note to Jake, explaining what little she knew about the accident and saying she was at Betty’s waiting for news.

Betty now seemed in a hurry to go, so Hannah got her coat. The crispness of the outside air caught her by surprise and provoked another bout of sneezing.

“You shouldn’t be out in this,” Betty said as they climbed in the buggy.

Hannah thought she shouldn’t be in
any
of this—the bear trouble, the financial strain, the minister’s duties, the loneliness, and now the terrible anxiety over her parents’ lives—but she didn’t feel she could complain about it to Betty. God was still in charge, she forcefully reminded herself, even though it didn’t feel like it.

“You sure are taking this well,” Betty commented as she took her seat in the buggy and handed Hannah a quilt. “Here, wrap yourself in this.”

“I don’t know if I’m taking it well or if I’m just numb,” Hannah said.

The buggy jerked forward, and Betty drove rapidly toward her neighbor’s house. Hannah used her handkerchief liberally, unable to distinguish between the tears from her cold and the tears from her fears.

“We don’t bother Mrs. Emery too much,” Betty said as she pulled to a stop. “Steve wants to talk with Bishop Nisley about putting a phone in the barn. Something needs to be done about our phone situation, I’ve been telling Steve. If Mrs. Emery isn’t home, it’s the phone booth in Libby. That’s too far. “

“We can go into Libby if you think it’s best,” Hannah said. “We might be a bother here.”

“Mrs. Emery won’t mind. Not in an emergency,” Betty assured her. She got out to tie the horse. Moments later they were at the door, but no one answered their knock. They listened but heard only silence.

“She must have gone to town,” Betty concluded.

“We’d better just use the phone there,” Hannah said.

“I suppose we have no choice.”

With the matter decided, they drove into Libby and stopped at the grocery store on the edge of town.

“I could go on down and tell Jake,” Hannah offered, “now that we’re here.”

“We’d better get some information first,” Betty said. “Here’s the phone number. Maybe you should call.”

Hannah felt a quiver of fear at what might lie at the end of her phone call, but figured she might as well hear the news straight. She desperately wanted to believe the information wouldn’t be too bad.

“I’ll need coins,” Hannah said.

“I have some.” Betty reached into her coat pocket.

Hannah wasn’t sure how many she would need, but the several quarters Betty produced seemed sufficient.

She dropped quarters into the slot and dialed the number on Betty’s piece of paper. Her fingers trembled in the cold wind swirling around the phone booth, her nervousness only making things worse.

She dropped in more coins as directed by a digitized recording. Then a distinct voice answered, “Good afternoon. Buffalo Hospital. How may I help you?”

“My name is Hannah Byler,” she said. “I am calling to talk with my mother, Kathy Miller. We had a report of an accident in which my parents were involved.”

Hannah wrapped her coat tightly around her shoulders. Still the wind whipped even harder than it had on the drive into town. Bent away from the blast, she tried to use the sides of the phone booth to get a measure of shelter. There were noises on the line, and she expected the voice to tell her Kathy Miller wasn’t available.

“I will page her,” the voice said instead.

Silence followed for a few minutes, and then the digitized voice came back on and said, “You have fifty seconds before your time expires.”

With cold fingers and a nose that was running furiously, Hannah dropped in several more quarters.

“Yes?” her mother’s hesitant voice greeted.

“Mom!” Hannah forgot the wind and the cold, gladness leaping into her voice.

“Hannah,” Kathy said. “How did you find us?”

“Betty,” Hannah answered. She could see Betty waiting anxiously at her elbow. “The state police called Indiana. They wouldn’t give us any news, though. Are you okay?” Hannah left the rest of the question unasked.

“Your dad and I are okay…but Bishop Amos didn’t make it.” Kathy’s voice broke, coming faintly over the line through the tears.

“Amos.” Hannah remembered Sunday, the ordination, and the bishop’s hands on Jake’s head. “He’s gone?”

“Yes,” Kathy said. “The accident turned the van on its side. We slid for a ways.”

“But you and Dad? You’re both okay?”

“Dad has a broken arm. I’m okay. I fell on him, I think, when the van turned on its side. Everybody else just has bruises.”

“Should we come?” Hannah asked.

“No,” Kathy said quickly, “that’s not necessary. Things are being arranged. We’ll get home. Word has been taken down to the family, so they know. There will be the funeral, of course, for Amos. But you won’t be expected to come.”

“Okay,” Hannah said as the digitized voice said she had thirty more seconds. “Will you let us know when you get home?”

“Yes, I’ll let you know through Betty’s neighbor,” Kathy agreed. “I have her number.”

“All right, then. Good-bye, Mom…” Hannah said, her voice breaking.

“We’ll be okay,” Kathy assured her. “Please don’t worry.”

When Hannah hung up, Betty said, “It was Bishop Amos?”

Hannah nodded. “I need to tell Jake.”

Twenty-two

Betty stayed in the buggy while Hannah went into the hardware store to tell Jake. She thought about asking for him at the front counter but decided to simply search. That would also give her a chance to see what the store looked like.

She found him on the third aisle she glanced down. He was bent over, unpacking items from a large cardboard box and placing them on the shelves.

“Jake,” she whispered as she approached.

“Hannah,” he said, standing up, “what are you doing here?”

“There’s been an accident. The van Mom and Dad were in,” she whispered, hoping the owner wouldn’t see her and think she was taking up Jake’s time unnecessarily.

“Your parents,” he asked, “are they okay?”

She nodded quickly. “Dad’s got a broken arm. It’s Bishop Amos, though. He didn’t make it.”

“Oh, no!” Jake set the case of batteries he held on the floor. “That’s unbelievable. He was just here on Sunday.”

Both were silent for a second, taking it all in. Then Hannah said, “Mom doesn’t know when the funeral will be.”

“We can’t go anyway,” Jake said slowly.

“No,” Hannah agreed, not certain whether Jake wanted to go or not. Would what happened Sunday give Jake reason to attend? Could it be another obligation, an expense they couldn’t afford?

“Maybe some of the others will go,” Jake said hopefully.

“Well, I’d better be going,” she said. “Stop at Betty’s house and pick me up.”

“Okay,” he said.

She turned to go, glancing back his way as she got to the end of the aisle. His back was already bent over the carton again. So quickly, she thought, life can change, and yet it continues on again.

When they arrived at Betty’s, Hannah got out and helped unhitch the horse. As she led him into the barn, the memories flooded her again. Here she had worked that summer, dreaming about what her life would be like with Jake. Never had she dreamed it would mean being married to a minister.

She gave Betty’s horse a shovel of oats and returned to the house. Betty, still concerned about Hannah’s cold, settled her on the couch with a blanket and some hot tea.

“I should be doing something,” Hannah soon insisted and moved to get up.

“No, you need the rest,” Betty said, insisting she lay back down. “It’s probably just tiredness from having your parents here all week and now this tragedy.”

Hannah reluctantly settled back on the couch. She had to admit Betty’s mothering did feel good. She let the cozy feeling envelope her as she felt protected for the moment from the swirling world of responsibility.

“You can’t take anything for that cold—nothing stronger than tea,” Betty called from the kitchen.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” Hannah said. “Mom already mentioned that.”

“It’ll be over in seven months,” Betty said in an attempt to comfort her but instead made her feel even worse.
Seven months!

Jake pulled into the driveway as dusk fell. Hannah got up quickly, wanting to catch him before he started to tie up. But as she was getting her coat, Betty popped out of the kitchen.

“Tell Jake you’re staying for supper,” Betty said.

“We can’t,” Hannah replied, though thinking how much she really wanted to stay. The loneliness of just her and Jake in the cabin weighed on her.

“Go tell him,” Betty said, not taking no for an answer. “He can tie up at the barn. There’s a horse blanket inside—you know where.”