A Dream for Hannah (4 page)

“I know,” Kathy said with a sigh. “The thought had crossed my mind…” Then a little smile played on her face. “Maybe you’d rather have her go out with Sam. He’s sure sweet on Hannah. He even gave me a card to take to the hospital.”

Roy laughed. “That boy? Well, he might at least be decent and a hard worker. His dad has his place paid off. He wouldn’t be too bad a choice in that respect.”

“She’ll have to make up her own mind, but Sam would be better than someone like Peter,” Kathy said.

“Yes, I agree,” Roy said.

Three

Hannah awoke with the first rays of the sun and gently rubbed her head near the bandage. She turned her head as the door opened and the nurse entered.

“How are you feeling, dear?” the nurse asked.

“My head aches.”

“I imagine it does after what you’ve gone through. It’s about time for another pill for your pain. That ought to help.”

Hannah watched the nurse check some monitors and then leave the room with a promise to return with her medication.

No sooner had she left than the wheels of a wheelchair appeared in the doorway. And just as Hannah had hoped, it was Peter.

“Hi,” he said as he rolled closer. “They let me take a spin on my own, and I thought I’d stop by.”

Hannah found nothing to say.

“It’s sure a nice morning,” Peter said, apparently not bothered by her silence.

Since he seemed so relaxed, Hannah simply laid back and let the pleasure of his presence wash over her. It soothed her head in a strange sort of way.

“Mom and Dad should be by this afternoon,” he said with a gentle voice. “I’m going home soon.”

When she remained silent, Peter asked, “Are you okay?” He tilted his head sideways, one hand slightly raised in her direction.

“Yes.” She felt like she couldn’t breathe but forced herself to smile. “I’m okay.”

Is that what the other girls feel when they leave the singings with their boyfriends? Suddenly she felt more than a little scared and very uncertain of herself.
This is a boy.
The thought—like an alarm—went off inside of her, and Hannah didn’t like the feeling.

Cautiously she looked down at Peter’s feet. She froze when they moved, sliding around on the floor in search of support. Hannah glanced up quickly and saw a slight smile on his face. Halfway out of his chair, he extended his hand toward her. She sat as still as she could as he gently brushed his fingers against her hand.

“You’ll be better soon. I know it.”

Hannah was surprised to find her fear gone. In its place her heart grew warm. She felt strangely cared for. Hannah looked down again.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered, and his fingers moved on her arm. “I heard the nurse say she would get you something.”

She nodded but didn’t look at his face.

“How old are you, Hannah?”

“Almost seventeen,” she whispered and wondered why he wanted to know.
Does he think I’m too young?

“I’m seventeen.” He smiled and volunteered, “I started
rumspringa
last year. You’re old enough for that…and I was hoping to see more of you.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. Not that she wanted to be involved in
rumspringa,
even if her parents allowed it, but she did want to see him again. What would he say if he knew she didn’t do
rumspringa?

Well,” he said, and his fingers left her arm, “I’m sure we’ll see more of each other somewhere. I’ll make sure of that. You’re a really nice girl. I like you.”

Before Hannah could find her voice, footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Peter quickly pulled away from the bed. He smiled at Hannah and then put a complete blank look on his face just as the nurse entered. She carried a tray with the pain medication and handed the pills and a glass of water to Hannah.

“What are you doing in here?” the nurse asked, directing her question at Peter.

“Visiting,” he said over his shoulder. “She’s Amish—like I am.” Then he was gone out the door.

“Was he bothering you?” the nurse asked, glancing sharply at Hannah.

She shook her head, stared at the pills, and hoped her face wasn’t telltale red. The nurse shrugged and helped Hannah sit up to take the medicine. As the pills went down, Hannah knew that something else had already taken the pain away faster than these pills ever would. She wondered how such a thing was possible. Was this how love worked? If it was, she liked it a lot.

The day continued, but Peter didn’t make any more appearances. Hannah could still feel the effects of his blue eyes, though. After lunch the nurse returned, stuck her head through the doorway, and said, “Peter’s being discharged now. Thought you’d like to know.”

“Thanks,” Hannah said since that seemed the thing to say.

A few minutes later, both of Peter’s parents walked by her door. She assumed it was Peter’s parents because they were dressed as the Amish dressed. A nurse with an empty wheelchair followed behind them.

“There we are,” she heard the nurse say, her voice off in the distance. “All better and ready to go home.”

A few minutes later they passed her door, Peter in his wheelchair, his parents on either side of him. Peter made no attempt to look at her—he faced straight ahead. As she watched the last of his wheelchair disappear, a strange feeling of emptiness settled upon her. The emotion was different from the pang of hunger, yet in a way it was the same, as if two different people tried to use the same buggy for different purposes. Hannah had never known that one could be hungry for something like words. Nor had she known that words could be so satisfying when spoken and could leave one so empty when they were gone.

Was this love too? She drew in her breath deeply.
I’m sure we’ll see more of each other somewhere. I’ll make sure of that.
She treasured the sound of those words. Could it be that Peter felt the same way she did?

That evening the hospital room settled into a hum of silence. People continually came and went by her door. Eventually even the comings and goings subsided. A nurse came in to check on her and seemed in a big hurry.

“You ready for the night?” she asked as she checked the monitors.

“I think so.” Hannah managed a smile, and the nurse left.

The darkness outside was deep by now, and homesickness flooded Hannah. Supper would be over, and the family would now be gathered under the gas lantern in the living room. Miriam and Emma would go upstairs to their room soon, across from her bedroom. Oh, for her own bed and the familiar sights and smells of her own room. Hannah felt tears slip down her cheeks, but there was nothing that could be done. She would have to stay here another night. In the dim light of the hospital room, she finally dropped off into a troubled sleep.

The nurse woke her in the morning with the news, “You’re going home today. The doctor signed your release. That’s good news!”

Hannah smiled weakly and fought to clear the fog in her head. “Is Mom coming? Does she know?”

“We’ll let her know when she comes in later this morning.”

“I want to go home now,” Hannah told the nurse.

Hannah waited impatiently until her mom and Mr. Bowen arrived for the official release, a little before lunch. The nurse pushed her in the wheelchair just as she had done for Alice and Peter. Mr. Bowen fussed over her at the car, wanting to make sure she was comfortable.

“I’m okay,” Hannah assured him though she could still feel the deep throb in her forehead that even the slightest touch would cause.

Once they were home, Hannah headed straight for the couch in the living room. Everything looked the same when she glanced around, but it seemed like she had been gone a very long time.

“How long was I gone?” she hollered toward the kitchen.

“Only a couple of days,” Kathy called back.

“It seems longer.”

“That’s normal, dear.”

Hannah nodded grimly and laid back on the couch to rest.

Miriam arrived about the time Emma came home from school on her bike. They both rushed into the house, apparently aware Hannah would be home.

“She looks
awful,”
Emma announced and then quickly placed her hand to her mouth. “Sorry! I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Miriam agreed. “She doesn’t look that bad.”

“So, which one of you is lying?” Hannah asked with a half smile.

“Stop tormenting your sister,” their mother called from the kitchen, and so they both disappeared, Emma toward the kitchen and Miriam upstairs.

Hannah was still on the couch when Isaac and Roy came in from the fields. Isaac must have been curious because he opened the front door, stuck his head in, and made a face. Hannah made one right back at him. He closed the door and broke out into peals of laughter. Her heart sank, believing she must indeed look awful. With a feeling of despair, she ran her fingers over her forehead.

“Am I that bad looking?” she asked in the direction of the kitchen, her voice weak.

“I heard him laugh at you.” Emma came into the living room. “Ignore him. That’s what I’d do.”

“But how do I
really
look? He’s a boy, remember.”

“You look just fine,” Emma pronounced and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Hannah leaned back against the couch and groaned. Apparently her face would be disfigured for the rest of her life, well beyond any hope, at least from a boy’s point of view.

Then the memory of Peter and his smile of approval returned. He had seen her in this very condition. With relief she relaxed once again and felt the tears of joy roll down her cheeks.

After supper, when Hannah had undressed and climbed into bed, she heard a knock on her door.

“Come in,” she said and was surprised when both her father and mother entered. Apparently something serious was afoot. She held her breath while her dad sat down on the bed’s edge, her mom beside him.

“That boy you met in the hospital,” he said and cleared his throat, “have we any cause to worry about him? Your mom and I don’t want you involved with boys like that.”

“Don’t be too hard on her, Roy,” her mom said quickly. “She’s just home from the hospital. Plus—nothing really happened. Perhaps we shouldn’t bother her.”

Her dad ignored her mom, kept his eyes on Hannah’s face, and continued, “Your mom said his name’s Peter. It’s just that we’re a bit concerned about this. Some boys just aren’t right for you…or for us. Peter might be that type of boy. I think it would just be better, perhaps, if you stayed away from him.”

Hannah caught her breath, not certain what to say, but her father needed some sort of an answer. “I’m not likely to see him,” she said. “They live in a different district.”

“So we have nothing to be concerned about?”

Hannah’s mind raced. How was she to explain the feelings she felt in the hospital room? How upset would her father be if he knew?

“He said I was a nice girl,” she ventured. If good feelings like this were such a bad thing, then what was one to do? Hide them? Deny they existed?

Her dad’s voice cut through her thoughts. “That’s just the problem. He shouldn’t be saying things like that to a girl he doesn’t really know.”