A Widow's Hope. Vannetta Chapman
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business. Just the day before, he’d looked at her as if she was crazy when she’d tried to put a sweater on Matthew. True, it was eighty degrees, but Matthew had been known to catch a cold in warmer weather than that.
Nope. Jacob Schrock didn’t belong in her life.
Matthew peeled the sticker off his hand and stuck it on to the buggy.
“Your therapists said you did a gut job today.”
“Uh-huh.”
“They also said you did everything fast, that you seemed to be in a rush to be done.”
“Are we almost home?”
“A few more miles.”
“Faster, please.”
“You want me to hurry this old buggy mare?”
“Daddi’s horse is faster.”
“Indeed.” Her father had ordered a second buggy horse when she’d come home to live. Hannah had protested it wasn’t necessary, but he’d insisted. Come to think of it, maybe he’d insisted because Dolly was getting older and they’d have to replace her soon, which didn’t bear thinking about. Dolly was the first buggy horse that Hannah had learned to drive.
While Matthew stared out the window, he pinched his bottom lip in between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it out like a pout and then letting it go. It was a habit that she saw only when he was anxious about something.
And she didn’t doubt for a minute that the source of his anxiety was right now hammering two-by-fours into the shape of a train.
They were about to pass the parking area for the Pumpkinvine Trail. Hannah pulled on the right rein and called out to Dolly, who docilely turned off the road.
“Why are we stopping?” Matthew frowned out at the trail, a place he usually enjoyed visiting.
“We need to talk.”
Now he stared up at her, eyes wide. “Am I in trouble?”
“No, Matt. Not at all.”
“Then what?”
Instead of answering, she studied him a minute. Already he had such a unique personality—with his own likes, dislikes and ideas. Admittedly, she felt more protective of him than most mothers might feel of a nearly five-year-old child, but she understood that this concern wasn’t only about his disability. It was also about his not having a father, about his missing the presence of a dad in his life.
“You like Jacob a lot. Don’t you?”
“Yes!”
“But you remember that he’s only at our house because some people paid him to be there.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He’s doing a job.”
“And I’m his ’rentice.”
Hannah sighed, closed her eyes, and prayed for patience and wisdom. When she opened her eyes, Matt reached out and patted her hand. “Don’t worry, Mamm. He’s a gut guy. Even Daddi said so.”
“Oh, ya, I’m sure he is.”
“So what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, really. But you do understand that Jacob is only going to be at our house for a few days, right? Then he’ll have another job, building another playhouse for someone else.”
Matt frowned and pulled on his bottom lip. “Another kid like me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Hannah reached out and brushed the hair out of his eyes.
“Uh-huh.”
“What do you mean, okay?”
“It’s okay that Jacob won’t be at our house because he’ll be at somebody else’s house making them happy.”
Since she didn’t have an answer for that, she called out to Dolly, who backed up and then trotted out of the parking area, back onto the two-lane.
She was willing to admit that possibly her son saw things more clearly than she did. Didn’t the Bible tell them they were to become like little children? Hannah wasn’t sure she’d be able to do that—her worries weighed too heavily on her heart, but maybe in this situation she could follow Matt’s lead. At least for a few more days.
And she would double her efforts looking for a job because she most certainly was not going to ask Jacob about what kind of help he needed.
* * *
Jacob had always enjoyed working on playhouses. He liked building things with an eye for small children. Some people might say it was because his own father had built him a similar type of playhouse. But his father had also taught him to play baseball and he had no urge to coach the youngies. His father had taught him how to sow seed and harvest it, but he had no desire to be a farmer.
He was grateful for his father, for both of his parents, and he still missed them terribly. But learning to build wooden playthings for children had been a gift from Gotte, a real blessing at the lowest point in his life. Today he was able to share part of that blessing with young Matthew, and he wanted every piece of it to be as good as he could make it.
So he measured everything twice—the main doorway into the train, the back door which ended on a small porch and the entryways between the cars. Wheelchairs required extra room and Matthew would probably require a larger chair as he grew. Though he was nearly five now, children as old as ten or even twelve often played on the structures that Jacob made. As Matthew grew, no doubt his chair would become a bit bigger. Jacob wanted the playhouse to be as accessible to him as his home.
He sanded the floor smoothly so that the wheels of the chair wouldn’t hang up on an uneven board.
He added a little extra height so that Matthew’s friends who would be standing and walking and running could play along beside him.
And when he heard the clatter of a buggy, he put down his tools and ambled over to meet Hannah and Matthew.
“Hi, Jacob. I can help now.”
“You already helped me this morning. Remember?”
“Ya, but—”
“Actually I’m about to call it a day.”
“Oh.”
“There is one thing I need...won’t take but a minute.”
“Sure! Anything. What is it?”
“I need you to come and do an early inspection.”
“You do?”
“Yup. I need my apprentice’s opinion before I move forward.”
“Cool!”
Hannah had parked the buggy, set the brake and jogged around to help Matthew out.
Jacob stepped forward as if to help, but a frown from Hannah and a short shake of her head convinced him not to try. She was obviously used to doing things on her own. So instead he stood there, feeling like an idiot because a woman weighing roughly the same as a hundred pound sack of feed struggled with simply helping her son out of a buggy.
As he watched, she removed the straps that secured the wheelchair to the back of the buggy, then set it on the ground, opened it, secured something along the back. Finally she opened the buggy’s door wide so that Matthew’s legs wouldn’t bang against anything.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Ready.” He threw his arms around her neck and she stepped back as she took the full weight of him, then settled him into the chair.
How would she