A Dream for Hannah (35 page)

“He’d better like it,” she muttered before she fell asleep.

Thirty-one

Kathy had no objections to Hannah helping Sam’s family. “They probably do need the extra hand,” she offered as explanation to the surprised look on Hannah’s face.

“They’re just making it hard on me,” Hannah insisted. “I just hope they decide I’m capable of being a good farm wife before too long.”

“It might just be what life is like with him,” Kathy said. “You can’t say you aren’t being warned.”

“I can make it,” Hannah said, squaring her chin. “I’m capable and strong enough for anything a farmer’s wife is supposed to be. They’ll see.”

“How are you getting over there?”

“Will you let me drive your horse?”

“I guess so. Just be back before too late because your dad might want it for the evening.”

So after lunch on the following Thursday, Hannah hitched the horse and headed down the road. It was a beautiful day as she drove along. The nice weather reminded her of Montana.
What a distant place that has become,
she mused.

Already Montana seemed so far away, and even the thought of Jake didn’t really bring a reaction. She hadn’t thought of him in several days. That was surely a good sign, wasn’t it? Hannah slapped the reins and assured herself that it was. And now she was off to Sam’s place to prove herself a capable farm woman. But she considered that if he knew all her sins, it might take more than just a day in the fields to convince them. She settled back into the buggy seat and let the memories of that far away place flood through her—Betty and Steve, the horses, the mountains, the plain by the river, and the rides with Jake. She had come so close to saying “yes” to Jake. She could hardly believe it now. Where would that have led her? No doubt someplace wrong, and so God had intervened when she couldn’t have helped herself. He had sent the mountain lion for one thing. And then, if that wasn’t enough, He had Betty tell Jake that she had been writing to Sam all summer.

Now she would live the life He had planned for her. She had to admit, though, that she couldn’t help but wish there was more excitement in being a farmer’s wife. But then, wasn’t her dream of excitement what had gotten her into trouble before? Yes, it was. No more of that.

Hannah slapped the reins again and urged the old driving horse on. When she reached sight of the Knepp place, already a small cloud of straw dust was in the air, light puffs beside the barn. The afternoon threshing had started before she got here.

Laura waved to her as she drove in. After she tied the horse, Hannah headed toward Laura, wondering exactly what her duties would be. Laura solved that question by offering her a pitchfork.

“Come up and help me,” Laura hollered above the racket.

Hannah looked in horror at the great rugged tractor that was attached to the threshing machine by a wide flap of belt. Both looked like mortal danger, but Laura smiled and waved her up.

Hannah gripped tightly as she climbed up the front of the wagon with its tiered sideboards and stood shakily on the top.

“Don’t fall off,” Laura hollered. “Grab the fork. Use that to keep your balance.”

Hannah followed Laura’s directions but wondered how she would be able to do anything else.

“Have you ever done this before?” Laura asked.

Hannah shook her head.

“Be careful, then,” Laura said. “Pick up the bundles one at a time and throw them into the hopper.”

Hannah looked down over the edge of the wagon at the hopper. Its great mouth stared back at her. Out of the hole came rotating sets of iron teeth that reached toward her as if to grab her and suck her in. Hannah shuddered at the thought.

“We need bundles,” a voice hollered from around the corner of the threshing machine.

Hannah didn’t recognize the voice above the roar of the machinery.

“We’d better get to work,” Laura said, her face grim. “Hang on tight and throw when you’re ready.” She demonstrated how it was done, and Hannah followed her lead. One by one, the bundles of oats hit the spinning iron teeth, causing the threshing machine to roar and groan.

Hannah was scared about missing the hopper on her first try, but she succeeded to her own great pleasure.

“That’s good,” Laura said from beside her.

Hannah threw her next one. Laura followed, and they cast down the bundles one after the other until the wagon was empty.

When they had finished, they noticed another full wagon waiting. Sam was the driver. He looked sweaty and dirty—the same condition Hannah assumed she was in.

“I would have offered to help,” he hollered above all the racket, “but you’re already done.”

“Hang on,” Laura hollered back. “I’m moving the wagon.”

Hannah balanced herself on the empty wagon bed as it lurched forward. Sam immediately pulled his wagon into place in front of the threshing machine and began to throw bundles into the hopper.

“We’d better take over,” Laura told Hannah. “He needs to go back for another load.”

She nodded and followed Laura up the side of the wagon.

“Hi,” Sam said when she got to the top. “How’s it going?”

“Okay, I guess,” she said and forced a smile. “It’s dusty work.”

“She’s doing just great,” Laura said. That answer seemed to please him.

“Two more loads,” Sam said before he headed down the side of the wagon. “We should be done before dark.”

“I can’t stay too late,” Hannah told Laura as Sam’s wagon bounced noisily down the lane toward the back fields. “Dad might need the horse tonight.”

“You just go when you need to,” Laura said. “I think we’ll be done before Sam thinks. He always overestimates the time it takes.”

Hannah and Laura swung away at the bundles until the wagon was empty again. Laura offered her a glass of water while they waited for Sam to return from the field. As Hannah wiped her brow, Laura smiled her approval, and Hannah felt perhaps she
could
be
a farmer’s wife.

“Only another half a load,” Sam announced when he returned. “We’ll have it loaded in no time.”

“What about unloading it?” Laura said with a groan. “The life of a farmer’s wife,” she said, turning to look at Hannah, “what do you think of it?”

“I think I can do it,” Hannah said without much effort.

“Just thought I’d warn you,” Laura said.

Hannah nodded. It seemed that her mother had said something like that not too long ago.
I can do it,
she told herself firmly, grabbing the fork again and swinging the bundles into the hopper.

“You’re good at this,” Laura said, “for never having done it before.”

“I’m trying,” Hannah answered as she heaved another bundle into the air.

By the time the next load was finished, she excused herself, happy that she had lasted until the end. At her buggy she retrieved the copy of
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
for
Sam, gave it to Laura, and asked her to see that Sam got it.

Laura looked amused but accepted the book. With a last wave, Hannah climbed into the buggy and headed home.

As she fell into bed that night, barely after supper, she said aloud, “I
can
make it. Life as a farmer’s wife is a good life.”

Apparently Sam agreed because several weeks later, with the advent of winter, he proposed. It was one of those early winter, Sunday afternoons with a blizzard threatening from the west. Talk had been of calling off the hymn sing, but the young folks had braved it. Now with still no snow in the air, Sam sat in Hannah’s living room. He had seemed nervous all evening. Now he cleared his throat, squirmed on the couch, and simply asked, “You will marry me, won’t you? That’s what these past few months have been about, haven’t they?”

“Well, jah,” Hannah said slowly, startled now that she was confronted by the expected question. She thought herself ready, but it still took her breath away.

You have stopped dreaming,
she told herself, but there was still one more sign she needed. “Did you ever get around to reading that book about Tom Sawyer that I gave you?” Hannah asked.

Sam looked as if he wondered what that had to do with anything. He finally found the answer he thought was best and said, “My dad said it wasn’t worth reading. But I told him I’d read it anyway because you gave it to me.” He laughed. “It was funny.”

“So you liked it?”

“Jah,
I think it’s the first book I have ever really liked.”

“Well.” Hannah was pleased and felt a sense of accomplishment. Perhaps this wouldn’t be as bad as she imagined. “Then the answer is yes.”

“Yes to what?” Sam asked, apparently puzzled.

“To
marrying
you,” Hannah said.

“You
will?”
he asked, astonishment gripping his voice. “That’s wonderful.” He stared at her, his mouth shut, but a tear threatened one eye.

“So when will it be?” Hannah asked, embarrassed that he was so touched.

He thought for a moment, as if contemplating whether or not to answer, and then his face became certain again, as if he had arrived at a firm conclusion. “How about in spring?”

“That soon?” she asked, her mind spinning. “How do we make plans that fast?”

“It can be done if you want to,” Sam assured her. “Dad already started the
daudy haus.
It might be done in time. If not, we can stay upstairs in the big house until Mom and Dad leave.”

“Oh,” Hannah said, catching her breath, “why not.” The signs were right, and the way was clear. She knew her smile was crooked, but it was the best she could manage.

“Spring it will be, then,” Sam said triumphantly. His hand trembled as he reached for her hand.

How pure,
she thought.
He is so much better than Peter and my foolish dreams.
She just wished her heart would be a little more excited.

The winter passed quickly, and spring came before Hannah wanted it to. The day of the wedding arrived with perfect weather. Kathy had been in a tizzy at first when she heard the planned date, but now it was finally going to happen. The pies were baked, the potatoes done, the casseroles stirred, and the fruit set out.

Roy’s cousin lent them his place—the large house for the ceremony and the pole barn for the reception afterward. The Miller home simply wasn’t large enough for an Amish wedding. Hannah picked out her color—dark blue for a wedding dress and a lighter shade of blue for her attendants.