A Hope for Hannah (35 page)

Hannah struggled back up the driveway toward the barn, pushing hard through the snow, her breath coming in gasps. Twice she had to stop and take shelter behind a snowbank to rest for a moment.

Finally she reached the barn, tugged open the door, and barged in. Mosey looked up, seemingly curious as to why she was there. Hannah quickly moved the horse from his stall, threw on the harness, found the sled, and tied on the rope.

She almost got tangled up in the awkward contraption as she led Mosey outside. The horse objected to the wind, shaking his head in protest. She talked quietly to him, telling him that Jake needed them and he had to be a good horse and behave.

Her voice seemed to calm him down. He even stood still while she clambered up onto him by standing on a leather strap. She shook the lines draped across Mosey’s neck to get the horse to move—if only at a dull plod. Even so, the trip went considerably faster than it had on foot.

When she got close, Jake called out to remind her where he was. When she reached the spot, she started to get down but thought better of it. She deftly maneuvered Mosey into place, close enough to Jake so he could tie the other tug on. Jake managed to pull himself up on one leg and soon had the sled rigged so that he could lay on it. When he was ready, he had to yell to Hannah to be heard over the wind. She urged Mosey forward and glanced back occasionally to see Jake hanging on and bouncing through the snow.

Hannah ignored Jake’s requests to take him to the barn so he could help her unhitch. Instead she pulled as close to the front porch as the horse could go.

“Thanks, big man,” she told him through frozen lips, “but tonight you listen. Get inside.”

“Okay,” he grumbled, hopping off the sled and releasing the tugs before he went inside, half crawling toward the front door.

When Hannah came in from the barn, Jake had his leg up on a chair and his sock off. His ankle was visibly red and swollen.

“Is it broken?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” he said, wincing as she felt his ankle for a sign of a break.

“Some pain pills,” she said, heading for the bathroom cabinet. She came back with three Advil tablets and a glass of water. Jake gulped them down without complaint.

“You should see a doctor,” she said.

“On a night like this? No. Besides, it’s just a sprain.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do. Besides, we can’t get out anyway.”

That Jake was right was obvious, so she relented and instead brought him his dinner on a tray.

“Your letter,” he groaned, pulling the now wet envelope out of his pocket.

“I’ll look at it later,” she answered, waving it off.

“I’m okay. Read it now,” Jake said as he handed it to her.

Hannah seated herself on the couch and opened the letter carefully.

“Read it out loud,” Jake said. “After this, I need some entertainment.”

Hannah rolled her eyes in a tease, but read the letter aloud.

Dear loved ones,

I hope this finds you all well. Our first snow came last week, just a light dusting, but we loved it. Dad seems well recovered from the accident, for which we are thankful. Christmas will be at Aunt Esther’s—a big affair. It would be nice to have both of you here, but we understand.

“It’s boring,” Jake said and groaned. “I wanted entertainment.”

“Don’t be complaining already,” Hannah said. “Betty was right. You men are not very good patients.”

“I’ll be a better patient when those pain pills take hold.”

“Give them time,” Hannah said, realizing she was sounding just like a mother.
Now isn’t that something new? Mothering Jake,
she thought with a secret smile.

“Finish your letter,” Jake said wearily, “in quiet, though. On second thought, I’m not up to hearing it. Now if it was from my mother…”

“That would be nice, but it wasn’t that long ago that you wrote her, and you haven’t heard back from her. Maybe she’s busy. Mothers can be, you know. Perhaps if you write her again, she’ll write back.”

“My leg hurts too much now.”

“Not now, silly. I didn’t mean that. Later.”

“Looks like I’ll be here for a while,” Jake muttered, glaring at his leg. “How clumsy can one be?”

“You didn’t have to go get the mail,” Hannah reminded him. “Just be thankful we could get you back to the house on a night like this.”

Jake just groaned again.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“Not till this pain lets up.”

As it turned out, the pain didn’t allow Jake to sleep until after midnight. Hannah stayed up with him until he finally wanted to get up from the couch and try to get in bed. Gingerly they made their way into the bedroom with Jake using a broom for a crutch.

In the morning the snow had stopped, and the sun came up in a blaze of white glory. Hannah let Jake sleep late. He couldn’t go to church with his swollen foot even if there had been no drifts on their road.

Hannah expected a snowplow to come up from the main road anytime, but none showed by the time Jake finally awoke. He looked so rumpled and sleepy-eyed Hannah laughed out loud.

“You certainly don’t look like a preacher now,” she teased.

“I suppose not,” he said. “You think anyone from church will come looking for us?”

“They’ll just think we’re snowbound,” Hannah said, actually enjoying the chance to stay home on a Sunday. The feeling was delicious—just she and Jake and no place to go. “They probably didn’t have church anyway.”

Jake laughed. “No, during winter in Montana, the snow doesn’t stop. They probably did have church.”

Hannah thought about it and considered that he was probably right. “Well, maybe so, but they can have church without you. Now, I seem to remember something about a letter to your mother…”

“Okay, okay,” Jake said. He got out his letter pad and began a letter to his mother. Hannah playfully tried to read it over his shoulder, but he covered it up every time she got close.

“I’ll mail it tomorrow,” he said, “when we go in to have this ankle looked at.”

“Tomorrow is Christmas,” she reminded him.

“Oh, right. I guess I forgot.” Jake shook his head as if trying to clear it.

Hannah watched him and said, “You sure you didn’t hurt your head last night?”

“I don’t think so,” he said

Just then they both heard the noise of the snowplow on the main road. Hannah looked out the window to see the plow as it passed below their driveway. Then, behind the plow, as if waiting to get through, was Mr. Brunson’s truck. But instead of following the plow along the main road, the pickup turned into the driveway.

Hannah went out to the porch to let Mr. Brunson know they were home in case he wanted something.

“Are you folks okay?” Mr. Brunson called from his truck.

“Jake sprained his ankle last night,” Hannah called back.

That produced an “Oh” from Mr. Brunson. He drove into the driveway, parked his truck, and stepped onto the porch where Hannah was waiting to invite him in.

“Hello,” Jake said from the couch, his foot propped up on a chair.

“So what have you done, young man?” Mr. Brunson demanded.

“Oh, I insisted on walking to the mailbox and got careless, I guess,” Jake said.

“You’ve seen a doctor?” Mr. Brunson asked.

Jake shook his head. “Not with the roads like they’ve been. And now it’s the holiday weekend.”

“You can go to Urgent Care in Libby,” Mr. Brunson said. “Now, let me take a look at that ankle.”

“We heard the plow. I guess that means the roads are open now,” Jake said, pulling up his pant leg to reveal his swollen ankle.

“Wiggle your toes,” Mr. Brunson said.

Jake wiggled them as much as he could.

“Turn your foot.” Mr. Brunson gently felt the ankle as Jake pivoted his foot from side to side.

“So what do you think?” Jake asked, hoping for a positive answer.

“Well, it’s not broken,” Mr. Brunson said. “I’m not a doctor, though. You should have it X-rayed.”

“After Christmas,” Jake said, “if it’s not better.”

“Sure you don’t want me to take you in?” Mr. Brunson asked. “I’m going that way.”

Jake shook his head. “No, not if it’s not broken.”

Mr. Brunson shrugged. “Suit yourself. Tuesday’s a long way off.”

“We’ll make it,” Jake assured him.

“All right, then. My advice is to stay off that foot as much as possible…and go see a doctor on Tuesday.” With that, Mr. Brunson left.

“I can’t have this lay me up very long,” Jake said. “Mr. Howard has quite a few orders lined up.”

“I’m sure you’ll mend just fine,” Hannah said hopefully.

During the rest of the afternoon, she thought of several ways to cheer Jake up but couldn’t settle on anything. Popping up a batch of popcorn didn’t really suit the occasion, and besides, she had no apple cider to serve with it. She wished someone would visit, but no one knew about Jake’s injury. People likely figured they were simply snowed in.

Jake finished his letter and sealed it with a lick and then said, “My ankle is starting to throb. Can you give me some more pills?”

“Every four hours—” she told him firmly, “no more than that.”

Jake groaned and laid back down on the couch.

The lonely Christmas holiday came and went in much the same way. Betty and Steve were hosting Steve’s family for the holidays, so there was really no other place to go, even if Jake hadn’t injured his ankle.

Hannah made snow cream by scooping up a large bowl of snow from the drift near their front porch. To her delight, Jake clearly enjoyed the treat. She then suggested they play some games, but Jake didn’t want to.

Instead he wanted to sing a song and read the Christmas story from the Bible. She agreed and sat beside him on the couch. They sang a Christmas song, but because it was just the two of them, it didn’t sound quite right to Hannah. Jake read the first two chapters of Luke with great tenderness and then offered a prayer.

“Those were some times back then,” he said as he set the Bible down. “Angels…I wonder why we don’t see angels anymore.”

“Maybe we have to live out in the hills,” Hannah said with an image of the shepherds tending their flocks flitting through her mind.

“That must have been a glorious sight,” Jake said with awe in his voice. “A sky full of angels. What must that have been like? Such singing.”

“Better than ours!” Hannah said.

Jake laughed. “I suppose so.”

“What must it have been like to be with child and without a husband?” Hannah asked, shivering at the thought. “Do you think anyone believed her?”

“Some did,” Jake said. “Elizabeth believed her.”

“Just think, Jake. Mary talked to an angel, just like that—face-to-face.” Hannah drew closer to Jake on the couch.

“He shall be great,” Jake quoted, “and shall be called the Son of the Highest.”

Outside, the wind was blowing across the drifts, swirling the snow around the living room window.