A Widow's Hope

Hannah peeked out the window one last time, then walked to the table and sank into one of the chairs. Mamm was putting the finishing touches on a baby quilt for a new mother in their congregation.

Hannah had to force her eyes away from the pastel fabric and the Sunbonnet Sue and Overall Sam pattern. Her mother had given her a similar quilt when Matthew was born. When Hannah had first wrapped her son in that quilt, she’d trusted that only good things would happen in their future. She’d hoped that one day she would wrap her daughter in the same quilt. Now such beliefs didn’t come so easily.

“I know you wanted today’s paper, but last week’s is still next to your father’s chair in the sitting room.”

“How did you know I wanted a paper?”

“Matthew told me you mentioned it.”

Had she told Matthew?

Abandoning any attempt to figure out how her mother knew things, Hannah fetched a highlighter from a kitchen drawer and the newspaper from the sitting room, folded it open to the Help Wanted section and sat down with a sigh.

“I wish you wouldn’t worry about that.”

“But we need the money.”

“Gotte will provide, Hannah.”

“Maybe He’s providing through one of these ads.”

The next twenty minutes passed in silence as Hannah’s mood plummeted even lower. The part-time positions paid too little and the full-time positions would require her to be away from home from sunup to sundown, if she could even get one of the positions, which was doubtful since she had no experience. She could always be a waitress at one of the Amish restaurants, but those positions were usually filled by younger girls—girls who hadn’t yet married, who had no children.

“He’s nice. Don’t you think?”

“Who?”

“You know who.”

“I don’t know who.”

“We sound like the owl in the barn.”

Hannah smiled at her mother and slapped the newspaper shut. “Okay. I probably know who.”

“I guess you were surprised to see him at the door.”

“Indeed I was.” Hannah should have kept her mouth shut, but she couldn’t resist asking, “Do you know what happened to him? To his face?”

“A fire, no doubt.” Her mother rocked the needle back and forth, tracing the outline of a Sunbonnet Sue. “We’ve had several homes destroyed over the years, and always there are injuries. Once or twice the fire was a result of carelessness. I think there was even one caused by lightning.”

“A shame,” Hannah whispered.

“That he had to endure such pain—yes. I’ll agree with that. It doesn’t change who he is, though, or his value as a person.”

“I never said—”

“You, more than anyone else, should realize that.”

“Of course I do.”

“You wouldn’t want anyone looking at Matthew and seeing a child with a disability. That’s not who he is. That’s just evidence of something he’s endured.”

“There’s no need to lecture me, Mamm.”

“Of course there isn’t.” She rotated the quilt and continued outlining the appliqué. “I can see that Jacob is self-conscious about his scars, though. I hate to think that anyone has been unkind to him.”

“His scars don’t seem to be affecting Matthew’s opinion. He looks at Jacob as if he had raised a barn single-handedly.”

“Gotte has a funny way of putting people in our life right when we need them.”

“I’m not sure this was Gotte’s work.”

“I know you don’t mean that. I raised you to have more faith, Hannah. The last year has been hard, ya, I know, but never doubt that Gotte is still guiding your life.”

Instead of arguing, Hannah opted to pursue a lighter subject. “So Gotte sent Jacob to build my son a playhouse?”

“Maybe.”

She nearly laughed. Her mother’s optimism grated on her nerves at times, but Hannah appreciated and loved her more than she could ever say. Mamm had been her port in the storm. Or perhaps Gotte had been, and Mamm had simply nudged her in the correct direction.

“You have to admit he’s easy on the eyes.”

“Is that how you older women describe a handsome man?”

“So you think he’s gut-looking?”

“That’s not what I said, Mamm.”

Claire tied off her thread, popped it through the back of the quilt and then rethreaded her needle. “Tell me about this first date you two had, because I can hardly remember it.”

“Small wonder. I was only sixteen.”

“Ya? Already out of school, then.”

“I was. In fact, I was working at the deli counter in town.”

“I remember that job. You always brought home the leftover sandwiches.”

“Jacob and I attended the same school, in the old district when we lived on Jackspur Lane. He’s two years older than me.”

“I’m surprised I don’t remember your stepping out with him.”

“Our house was quite busy then.” Hannah was the youngest of three girls. She’d always expected her life to follow their fairy-tale existence. “Beth had just announced her plans to marry Carl, and Sharon was working with the midwife.”

“I do remember that summer. I thought things would get easier when you three were out of school, but suddenly I had trouble keeping up with everyone.”

“The date with Jacob, it was only my second or third, and I was still expecting something like I read in the romance books.”