A Widow's Hope. Vannetta Chapman
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Hannah flipped through the magazine, too quickly to actually see anything on the pages.
“There’s more you’re not saying, which is fine. Some things we need to keep private, but take it from me—it’s best to share when something is bothering you. Share with someone you can trust not to shout it to the nearest Budget scribe.”
Hannah considered that for a moment. Maybe it would help to share her worries, especially with someone outside the family, and she could trust Sally to keep anything she said confidential.
“The Sunshine Foundation purchased supplies for a playhouse for Matthew—a special one, you know. It will have handicap rails and all.”
“What a wunderbaar thing.”
“And the National Spinal Cord Injury Association hired someone to build it.”
“Even better. I know your father is very busy with his crops.”
“Jacob Schrock showed up yesterday—to build the playhouse, which is in the shape of a train. I’m afraid that Matthew is fairly smitten with him.”
Sally glanced at her once, but she didn’t offer an opinion. She continued knitting, as if she were waiting for Hannah to say more. But Hannah didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much that Matthew liked Jacob.
“I suppose I’m worried is all. I know Jacob will be done in a few days and then...most likely...Matthew won’t see him anymore. I’ve tried to explain this, but Matthew doesn’t listen. He prattles on about how he’s Jacob’s apprentice.”
“It’s natural for young boys Matthew’s age to look up to their elders—your father, your brothers-in-law, the men in church.”
“Ya. I know it is. But those are all people who are a constant presence in his life.”
“Soon he will be in school,” Sally continued. “I’m sure you realize that some teachers stay a long time, but others only last a year.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Some people are in our lives permanently. Others? Gotte brings them to us for a short time.”
Instead of answering, Hannah sighed.
Sally turned the baby blanket and began a row of purl stitches. They flowed seamlessly together with the knit stitches. The result was a pattern that looked as if it had been produced in an Englisch factory.
“Jacob Schrock, he’s a gut man.”
“Is he in your district?”
“He was, but we had to split recently. So many families. So many grandkinner.”
“I went to school with him, but that was years ago.”
“Before his accident, then.”
“Ya.” Hannah pulled the shawl she was supposed to be working on back out of her bag, but she didn’t bother with hunting for the crochet needle.
“Terrible thing. Both of his parents were killed. The fire chief said the blaze was caused by a lightning strike. Jacob was out in the buggy when it happened. I heard that he saw the blaze from the road, ran into the burning house, and pulled out his mamm and his dat, but it was too late.”
Hannah’s hand went to her left cheek. “That’s how he got the scars?”
“For sure and certain. He was in the hospital for a long time. The doctors wanted to do more surgeries...graft skin onto his face. They said that he would look as gut as new.”
“So why didn’t they?”
Sally shrugged. “He would still be a man who had lost his parents in a fire, who had endured unfathomable pain. Removing the scars from his face wouldn’t have removed the scars from his heart.”
“Yes, but—”
“Jacob decided not to have the additional surgeries. Our bishop would have allowed it, but Jacob said no. He said the money that had been donated should go to someone else.”
“Kind of him.”
“Ya, he is a kind man. He was also very depressed for...” Sally stared across the room, as if she were trying to count the years, to tally them into something that made sense. “For two, maybe three years. Rarely came to church. Kind of hid inside his house.”
“What changed?” Hannah asked. “When did he start making playhouses?”
“I suppose the playhouse building started a few years ago. As to what changed, you’d have to ask Jacob.”
“He seems happy enough now.”
“Trouble finds us all from time to time. Now Jacob is dealing with this tax audit.”
“Tax audit?”
“They’re not saying he did anything wrong, mind you. Only that he’ll have to produce ledgers and receipts.”
“Can he?”
Sally grimaced as she again turned the blanket and began a new row of knit stitches. “My granddaughter tried to work for him. She lasted less than a day. Said that he’d apparently been paying his taxes based on some system he kept scribbled on random sheets of paper. Said she couldn’t make any sense of it at all.”
“Oh my.”
“And the receipts? Thrown into bins with the year taped on the outside. A giant mess according to Abigail. Said she’d rather keep waitressing than deal with that. Fortunately, she was able to get her old job back.”
“But what about Jacob?”
“He’s still looking for someone.” Sally’s needles stopped suddenly, clicking together as she dropped them in her lap. “Seems I remember you being very gut in math.”
“That was years ago.”
“It’s an ability, though, not something you forget.”
“I wouldn’t—”
“And didn’t you mention last week that you were worried about your parents’ finances?”
“Well, yes, but... I’m looking for a job that pays well, something in town perhaps.”
“Any success?”
“Not yet.”
Sally picked up her needles again, and Hannah hoped the subject was dropped. She could not work for Jacob Schrock. He would be out of her life by the end of the week. The last thing she needed was to be in constant contact with him, working with him on a daily basis. The way he looked at her? Such a mixture of pity and compassion. She didn’t need to face that every day, and how could she leave Matthew?
Always her mind circled back to that final question. How could she leave her son eight, maybe even nine hours a day? Could she expect her mother to pick up the slack? How was Mamm supposed to cope with one more thing on top of all she had to do?
Matthew wheeled through the doorway and into the waiting room, a smiley sticker on the back of his hand, and Hannah began gathering up her things. It was as she turned to go that Sally said, “Think about it, Hannah. It could be that you would be a real blessing to Jacob, and maybe...maybe it would solve your problems in the process.”
* * *
She’d have to ask Jacob about the job.
Only of course, she wouldn’t. It was all none of her business. Soon he’d be done with the playhouse and she wouldn’t see him again, which would suit her just fine. Dolly clip-clopped down the road, more content with the day than Hannah was.
She would be content, if she had a job. If they didn’t have financial problems. If she wasn’t so worried about Matthew.
It