A Hope for Hannah by Jerry S. Eicher Page A

on his knees, his face in his hands. “We belong here—both of us. We belong to this place, this country, this church. I just feel it. I’ve felt it since the first time we came here. It was to be you and me—together—here.”
    “But things change. We all dream,” she said. “Sometimes it’s not right, not what we think it is.” She felt his shoulders stiffen under her hands.
    Smiling gently, he said, “We’re supposed to stay here.”
    “But what will we do? Lose the cabin? At least if you sold it now, you could get plenty of money for it. In the winter, who knows? There might be no buyers then.”
    Jake turned to face her, his young features drawn in pain. The tears stung her eyes again as he took both her hands in his.
    “Yes, it might be easier,” he said slowly as if the thought was still forming in his mind. “But to do what is right is always best.”
    Hannah was silent for a moment and then simply said, “But what will we do, then?”
    “I don’t know,” Jakes said, “but we need to stay. I’ll go look for work tomorrow. Something will turn up.”
    “There are plenty of jobs at home. I know Dad could get you in where he works. They pay well.”
    “Let’s try here first,” he said with a sigh, weariness filling his young face and stirring compassion in Hannah.
    “You are the brave one,” she said, kissing his forehead. “I always thought I was, but you are so much braver.”
    “No,” he said, “you really are. You married me.” A slight grin played on his face. “Any regrets?”
    “Don’t say that,” she said, chiding him. “Of course not.”
    “Your Sam wouldn’t be out of work,” he said.
    This made her laugh. “Me, a farmer’s wife? No, I don’t think so.”
    “Is that the only reason?” he asked.
    She laughed again. “You silly, of course not!”
    “Just checking.” He let go of her hands. “Now, about that supper, is the offer still good? I feel a little better.”
    “Wait a minute,” Hannah said. “You mentioned Sam, but what about that girl? Do you wish she hadn’t jilted you? She was much better looking than me.”
    “No she wasn’t.” And with that, Jake stood and kissed Hannah.
    When they parted, Hannah said, “I’ll start our supper.”
    “Supper—” Jake agreed, “let’s have a good one.”
    Hannah sent Jake out to the springhouse for ham, potatoes, and a head of lettuce. When he brought the items in, Hannah put him to work peeling the potatoes and then asked him to wash the bowls she had finished using. This kept Jake occupied until the gravy was done.
    An hour later they sat down to the meal—ham with mashed potatoes and gravy, corn from her garden, salad with cut tomatoes, and cake left over from earlier in the week. Jake bowed his head for prayer and surprised her when he prayed out loud. The words sounded melodious—reverent—and they soothed Hannah’s heart, seeming to catch the spirit of her feelings. The young couple was being pushed out of their youth, their innocence, and their ideals and into a world they had never been in. She could see it in Jake’s face as his lips moved, forming the German words. She could feel it in her own body, which now held their child. She wept from the sheer overwhelming strangeness of this world that lay before them.
    “It’ll be okay,” Jake said as he reached for her, his fingers finding their way to her hands and gripping them. “We’ll make it.”
    Hannah wished she had Jake’s confidence but simply nodded, pulled her handkerchief from her apron pocket, and used it until her emotions were under control.
    “It’s hard, I know,” Jake said, “but God will help us.”
    Hannah took comfort in the words, but most of all she took comfort that Jake had said them. Never before had he said anything like this, in this tone of voice and with this amount of confidence. She clung to the anchor offered, not certain whether it came from Jake, his words, or the God to whom he had directed his