A Hope for Hannah by Jerry S. Eicher

from the authorities.”
    “Let’s take a look at this springhouse of the Byler’s.” The officer gave another sharp glance at Mr. Brunson. “Then I’ll file my report. We’ll see that the problem is taken care of one way or the other.”
    “What about my property?” Mr. Brunson asked. He didn’t sound mollified at all.
    “We’ll take a look at that too,” the officer said, his voice restrained.
    The officer walked with Jake, looked carefully at the springhouse, lifted the heavy door, and then let it swing shut.
    “It’s well built,” he concluded. “It should be okay if you keep it shut tight. Never let it get in, though. Once it does, you’ll have to tear this down. Bears would never forget such a haul. This would give them a big one.”
    “Sounds like you plan on this being a long-term problem,” Mr. Brunson said.
    “We’ll do something,” the officer said, assurance in his voice.
    “You’d better,” Mr. Brunson said.
    The officer asked a few more questions of Jake and Hannah and then left. He followed Mr. Brunson farther up the dirt road to look at the site where Mr. Brunson’s pig had been eaten.
    At around three o’clock, the rain started again, chasing Jake from the yard to the barn where he started a new woodworking project. He had told Hannah he was going to build a log dresser for the master bedroom and a crib for the baby. The latter made Hannah feel reassured and cared for by Jake, and it was a diversion from thinking about the troublesome bear.
    The rain also brought Jake’s boss to the cabin just before supper. His truck rattled to a stop in front of the cabin. Jake opened the front door and greeted him with, “It’s good to see you,” and he stepped aside to let the burly man come in.
    “I can’t stay, son,” he said, his eyes not meeting Jake’s. “I have bad news.”
    “Yes,” Jake said, a catch in his throat that Hannah heard all the way out in the kitchen.
    “I just lost my next contract—the big one behind the Cabinet Mountains. I’m afraid I have to lay off half the crew until work picks up again, what with winter coming and all.”
    Jake said nothing, the silence so loud Hannah gasped.
    “I’m sorry, son,” the man’s voice reached Hannah clearly. It carried genuine compassion, like an attempt to put salve on a wound. “It’s hard for all of us. That’s why I came to tell you myself.”

Eight
     
    The rest of the evening seemed to drag on forever. Jake sat in the living room under the light of the gas lantern, but he was in his own world. Hannah shed her tears in the kitchen, taking care to hide them from Jake. This was hard enough on him. Her tears would only add to the burden of everything else. She would stop by the couch, rub his shoulders, and then move on.
    “Would you like some supper?” she asked, trusting her voice at the moment to not break down.
    Jake shook his head, his eyes staring blankly out the front window. “We have to have money to live on,” he said, his voice low.
    She almost spoke the old cliché We can live on love but caught herself. The silliness of it almost brought the tears again.
    “I’ll make you supper anyway,” she said. “You need it.”
    “I need a job,” he said, his voice flat. “I need to take care of you and the baby.”
    She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and then simply allowed the tears to come, not caring that they dampened the top of Jake’s head.
    “Maybe this is a sign that we should go back to Nappanee,” she whispered. She saw their condition in its starkest terms, the darkness outside driving her thoughts.
    “We can’t,” he said, his voice still flat but determined. “We can’t leave this place. I don’t see how.”
    “But the baby’s coming,” she said softly. “Winter will soon be here. You heard what the officer said—they’re not going to do much about that bear. It’s a grizzly, and they’re protected by law.”
    “We just can’t,” he said quietly, his elbows now