Hannah's Journey

By the time she reached the edge of the celery fields with their cottages in the background, it was midafternoon. The five-mile walk had given her ample time to consider the possibilities before her—and to pray for guidance in choosing correctly.

Instead of stopping at her small bungalow, she went straight to her father-in-law’s bakery. As she had suspected, he was still there—as was his eldest daughter Pleasant, who had helped him run the business since the death of her mother. Hannah frowned. She had hoped to find Gunther Goodloe alone. Pleasant was the anti thesis of her name. A spinster, she seemed always to look on the dark side of any situation. Hannah could only imagine how she might react to the idea that Hannah needed to travel—by train—to find Caleb.

Hannah took a deep, steadying breath, closed her eyes for a moment to gather her wits, then opened the door to the bakery.

“We’re closed,” Pleasant barked without looking up from her sweeping.

“Hello, Pleasant. Is Gunther in the back?”

“Where else would he be?”

Hannah saw this for the rhetorical question it was and inched past her sister-in-law. Her father-in-law was a short and stocky man with a full gray beard that only highlighted his lack of hair. “Good day to you,” Hannah called out over the clang of pans that Gunther was scrubbing. She took a towel from a peg near the back door of the shop, and began drying one of the pans he’d left to drain on the sideboard.

“The boy took off, did he?”

Hannah nodded.

“Any idea where he went?”

“Yes.” She inhaled deeply and then told her father-in-law her suspicions.

“The circus? Well, he wouldn’t be the first.” He shook the water from his large hands and then wiped them on a towel that had once been a flour sack. “Do you want me to go down there and fetch him home?”

“You can’t. The circus company left before dawn.”

Gunther raised his bushy eyebrows but said nothing.

“I went to see Mr. Levi Harmon,” she admitted.

“Why would you do such a thing on your own, Hannah? Why wouldn’t you have come to me—or the bishop—right away and let us handle this?”

“Because Caleb is my son.”

“Nevertheless…”

“It’s done,” she interrupted, “and now we must decide what to do next.”

“What did Harmon have to say? He can’t have been any too pleased to have you accusing him of harboring a runaway.”

“I didn’t accuse him of anything. I simply asked for his help in bringing Caleb home. He leaves this evening and plans to meet up with the company tomorrow and travel the rest of the way back to Wisconsin with them.”

“So if Caleb is with the company, he’ll send him back?”

Hannah swallowed. “He’s agreed to look for Caleb.”

“And if he finds him?” Gunther looked at her with suspicion.

There was no use beating about the bush. She met his gaze. “He expects me to come with him and bring Caleb home myself.”

“You cannot travel alone, child.” The older man ran his hand over the length of his gray beard.

Hannah held her breath. He was not saying she shouldn’t go.

“I think this is a matter for the bishop to decide,” he said finally. He took down his hat from the peg by the side door. “Pleasant? Hannah and I will be back shortly.”

Pleasant cast one curious glance at Hannah and then returned to her sweeping. “I’ll be here,” she said.

They found Bishop Troyer at home and Hannah stood quietly by the front door while Gunther explained the situation. The two men discussed the matter in low tones that made it difficult for Hannah to hear. Twice the bishop glanced directly at her, shook his head and returned to the discussion. I should have simply agreed to go with him, she thought and then immediately prayed for forgiveness in even thinking such a thing. But this is my son—my only child and I…

“Hannah? The bishop would like a word with you.”

Her legs felt like wood as she crossed the room and took a seat on the hard straight-backed chair opposite Bishop Troyer. She folded her hands in her lap more to steady them than to appear pious and kept her eyes lowered, lest he see her fear.

“This is indeed an unusual circumstance, Mrs. Goodloe, but at the core of it all is the undeniable fact that a boy—one of our own—is missing. And although you may be right in surmising that he has run away with the circus, we must be sure.”

Hope tugged at her heart and she risked a glance at the kindly face of the bishop. His brow was furrowed but he was not frowning, just concentrating, she realized. He was trying to work out a solution that would serve the purpose of finding Caleb and bringing him home without going too far afield from the traditions that governed their community.

“It seems to me that Mr. Harmon’s offer is a kind and generous one.”

“Oh, he is a good man, Bishop, I’m certain of that,” Hannah blurted.

This time there was no mistaking the frown that crossed both the bishop’s face and her father-in-law’s. Gunther cleared his throat and when she glanced at him, he shook his head as if warning her to remain silent.

“I have given my permission for you to take this journey as long as your father-in-law and your sister-in-law, Pleasant, travel with you.”

Hannah’s heart fell. “But the bakery,” she whispered, knowing there was no one else Gunther would trust with his business.

“I have some time,” the bishop replied, “as well as some experience in managing a business. I have offered to watch over the store while you are away.”

She could hardly believe her ears. The bishop’s offer was beyond anything she might have imagined possible. She glanced at Gunther who had offered the bishop a handshake—a contract in their society as binding as any piece of paper.

“Well, child, we must go. You said the train will leave at seven?”

Hannah nodded, unable to find words to express her joy and relief.

“Then come along. You and Pleasant can see to the packing while the bishop and I go over some of the particulars of managing the business for a few days.”

Levi had spent the rest of the day in his office tending to the mountain of paperwork in preparation for vacating the Florida house for his more modest home in Wisconsin. For the next few weeks he would conduct his business from his private railway car. The Florida staff would see to the closing of his Sarasota residence and the opening of his home in Baraboo. With the exception of Hans who would travel with him, others of his household staff would travel directly to Wisconsin while he and Hans caught up with his company and made the scheduled stops with the circus for performances along the way.

He’d tried not to think about the Goodloe woman. He was fairly certain that she would not—could not—meet his demand that she travel with him to find her son. It had been ridiculous to even suggest such a thing and yet there had been something about the way she had looked at him as he dismissed her and returned to his office that made him uncertain.

The boy had run away and perhaps had inherited his wanderlust from his mother. It was intriguing to think that she was the parent with the adventurous streak. Over the years he had spent living the circus life, never once could he recall a female running away to join the troupe. Of course, Mrs. Goodloe was not exactly planning to join the traveling show. She simply wanted to find her son. But would she defy the counsel of her community’s elders to accomplish that? He doubted it.

And he had no more time to give to the woman’s problem. No doubt the boy had stowed away on the train. No doubt he would be discovered. No doubt that by week’s end he would be back in his own bed. Levi knew that his managers would see to that. Besides, he had other far more serious matters to consider. How was it that when his circus had just completed its most successful season yet in terms of sold-out performances, the numbers did not reflect that? Expenses had risen to be sure but it seemed impossible that the cost of feeding and housing a menagerie of exotic animals and a hundred-plus performers and crew could explain such a disparity in revenue.

“Your car is waiting, sir,” Hans announced with a meaningful glance at the nineteenth-century, gilded French clock that dominated the narrow marble mantel of the fireplace. The manservant was dressed in traveling clothes and holding Levi’s hat as well as his own.

Levi gathered the papers he would need and stuffed them into the valise that Hans had brought to him earlier. “I should change,” he muttered irritably and then wondered why. It was unlikely that there would be anyone at the station to see him off. Levi was a generous supporter of many charitable groups throughout this part of Florida, but he was known to be a reclusive man and most people had learned to respect that—even though they openly commented on the paradox that a man known for his extravagant entertainments and lavish lifestyle should be so protective of his personal privacy.

“Let’s go,” he told Hans as he headed for the door.

The weather had deteriorated. The air was steamy with humidity and the sky had gone from blue to a steel gray that held the promise of rain. He thought of Hannah Goodloe, imagining her walking back to the small Amish community east and north of the train station. For reasons he could not fathom, he felt the desire to make certain she arrived home before the rain began. He should have insisted on having his driver take her back. Surely she was there by now. Surely she had taken precautions for the weather.

At the station his private railway car was attached to the train that regularly made the run from Sarasota to Tampa and then from there to points north. Once the train reached Jonesville on the Florida/Georgia border, his car would be disconnected from the regular train and attached to his circus train. By the time they reached Baraboo, they would have performed in a dozen towns across half a dozen states and it would be June in Wisconsin.

“All aboard!” the conductor bellowed as Levi strode the length of the hissing and belching train to where his car waited. He passed clusters of passengers that had gathered on the platform to say their goodbyes and board the public cars. Not one of them paid the slightest attention to him but he could not help scanning their faces to see if she had come after all.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, but while Hans handed the rail attendant Levi’s valise, Levi looked back, down the length of the now almost deserted platform.

“Board!” The conductor’s call seemed to echo and exaggerate the fact that she was nowhere in sight.

“Sir?” Hans stood at his elbow waiting for him to mount the filigreed metal steps to enter his car.

Levi nodded and climbed aboard but took one last look back. And there, out of the steam and fog, he saw three figures—two women and a bearded man—consulting with the conductor who pointed them in Levi’s direction.

He felt a strange sense of relief that bordered on victory. She had come after all and apparently with her family’s blessing, assuming her two companions had accompanied her to see her off. “Make sure the guest stateroom is prepared,” he said to Hans as he stepped back onto the platform and walked toward the trio. “Mrs. Goodloe,” he said, removing his hat and smiling broadly.

“Mr. Harmon, may I introduce my father-in-law, Gunther Goodloe, and my late husband’s sister, Pleasant.”

It was only when the older man shifted a worn cardboard suitcase from one hand to the other in order to accept his handshake that Levi realized they were all three carrying luggage. “I see you came prepared to stay for some time, Mrs. Goodloe. However, if your son is…”

“My father and sister-in-law will be accompanying me on the journey, Mr. Harmon. The conductor tells us that the regular seating is filled and I apologize for not notifying you sooner of the extra passengers, but…”

Levi turned his attention to the man. “I assure you, sir, your daughter-in-law will travel in comfort and there is no reason at all for you to…”

“Our bishop has given his permission for this unusual trip,” Gunther Goodloe said in a gentle but firm tone, “and he has done so only on the understanding that our Hannah will not make this journey alone.” He smiled and shrugged as if he’d just made some observation about the inclement weather.

“I see.” He could feel Hans watching him nervously, waiting for instruction. He could see the conductor checking his pocket watch and casting impatient looks in his direction. “Well, come aboard then and let’s get you all settled in.” He waited while the three-some climbed the stairs and then turned to Hans. “Prepare my quarters for the gentleman. The two women can stay in the larger guestroom.”

“Very good, sir.” Hans knew better than to question his boss, although the question of where Levi would sleep was implicit in the look he gave his employer. He walked to the far end of the car and boarded from there. Levi was well aware that while he was giving his guests the grand tour of the viewing room, the dining room and the parlor, Hans would be organizing the staff to prepare the rooms.

Once Levi had left the ladies and Gunther Goodloe to rest before dinner in their staterooms, he let out a long sigh of relief. The older man made him nervous. Not intentionally, of course. Gunther was the epitome of polite reserve, but it was that very reserve that brought back memories Levi had thought he’d long ago laid to rest. Memories of his late father—a man who, like Gunther, said little in words but spoke volumes with his half smile and expressive pale blue eyes. And his grandfather, whose strict household where Levi had lived after his parents died had been the deciding factor in his decision to run away.

“Mr. Harmon?”

Levi had been so lost in the past that he had not heard the young widow come in. Of course, even within the quiet of his luxurious car, there was always the steady rumble of the train moving over the tracks. He fixed a smile on his face and turned to greet her. “I trust everything is to your liking, Mrs. Goodloe?”

“It’s very…” She hesitated, studying the pattern of the Oriental rug that carpeted the combination dining and sitting room. She drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes for an instant, then met his gaze directly. “I’m afraid that the accommodations simply won’t do,” she said. “Not at all. My family and I simply cannot stay here.”

Chapter Three

“We are on a moving train, Mrs. Goodloe.” His head was throbbing. Would these people never be satisfied?

“I appreciate that,” she replied without a hint of the sarcasm he’d infused into his comment. “I only thought that my father-in-law could perhaps share whatever accommodations Mr. Winters uses.”

“Mr. Winters? Hans?”

“Yes. I am thinking that his accommodations are… plainer and would be more comfortable for my father-in-law.”

“And where would you and Miss Goodloe stay?”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” she admitted. “It’s just that Gunther—Mr. Goodloe—seemed troubled by his surroundings. He’s of the old school and…”

“You and your sister-in-law are not?” Levi felt the twitch of a smile jerk at one corner of his mouth. He could see that she had not considered this in her zeal to assure her father-in-law’s comfort, but after a moment she offered him a tentative smile.

“We can perhaps make do if you would agree to certain minor changes that would allow Pleasant to feel more at ease.”

“What kinds of changes?”

“If we might have some plain muslin cloth—perhaps some linens that are plain, we could cover some of the more…” Her voice trailed off.

Levi closed his eyes in a vain attempt to get control of his irritation and found himself thinking about the room he had given the women for the night. The cabin had ample room for two. A sofa upholstered in Parisian brocade that folded out into a bed and an upper berth. Above the cabin door hung a painting from his collection in a thick gilded frame. The dressing table was stocked with a variety of toiletries in elegant crystal bottles, each set into a specially designed compartment to keep it secure when the train was in motion. The lighting in the room came from wall sconces that sported laughing cherubs and the floor was outfitted with a thick sheepskin rug. For people like the Goodloe family, he could see that the place might come across as anything but “plain.”

“Could we not do the same for Mr. Goodloe in my room?”

“I suppose. It’s just that he’s beginning to think that we made a mistake in accepting your kind and generous offer.” To his shock her eyes filled suddenly with tears. “Oh, Mr. Harmon, I want so much to find my son and bring him home but if my father-in-law decides we’ve made a mistake and the train stops to take on more passengers and…”

A woman’s genuine distress had always been Levi’s undoing. “Hans!”

The manservant appeared immediately. “Sir?”

“Mr. Goodloe will be bunking in with you for the duration of our trip. I apologize for any inconvenience but it’s necessary.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll see to it at once. Will there be anything else?”

“Yes, while we are at dinner, please see that Mrs. Goodloe’s stateroom is refurbished. Remove anything that shines or glitters or smacks of flamboyance. Use plain linens to make up the beds and see if you can locate a couple of those rag rugs you use at the mansion for wiping our feet inside the garden entrance to put by each bed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And cover the paintings and mirrors,” Levi added as Hans hurried off to do his bidding. “They are bolted to the walls,” he explained when he saw Hannah’s puzzled look.

“I’ll go and let the others know. May God bless you, Mr. Harmon.” She was halfway down the narrow corridor when he called her back.

“Mrs. Goodloe?”

This time her face was wreathed in a genuine and full-blown smile that took his breath away. He had intended to reassure her that her son would be found and before she knew it, she and her family would be safely back home. But the attraction that shot through him like a bolt of adrenaline before a tightrope walker steps out onto the wire for the first time made him react with the same philosophy by which he had lived his entire life. Never let the other person believe he—or she—has won.

“I am a businessman,” he began, and saw her smile falter slightly. “I rarely if ever do anything without expecting something in return.” The way her spine straightened almost imperceptibly and her chin jutted forward with just a hint of defiance fascinated him.

“I thought you had invited us here as your guests, sir.”

“That’s true.”

“Then what is your price?”

“I would like to know your given name and be allowed to call you by it when we are alone.”

Her lips worked as if trying to find words. Her eyes widened. And then to his delight she burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s a good one, Mr. Harmon. You had me going there for a moment.”

“I’m serious.”

She sobered. “My name is Hannah.”

“Hannah,” he repeated. “Well, dinner will be served in fifteen minutes, Hannah. And I assure you that the food will be plain enough even for your father-in-law.” He turned away, busying himself by flipping through a stack of messages Hans had left for him on the sideboard. He was aware that she remained standing in the doorway to the corridor but he refused to turn around.

“I’ll tell my family,” she said, and then added in the lowest possible tone to still be heard clearly. “Thank you, Levi.”

All the way back to her room, Hannah sent up pleas for forgiveness. From childhood on she had been known for her impish personality. But she was a grown woman now—a mother, a widow. Surely such mischievous behavior was beneath her. Levi Harmon could have turned her away at the door of his lavish Sarasota estate. He could have thrown up his hands and informed her that Caleb’s running away was hardly his concern. He could have done so many things other than what he had done—shown her kindness. And yet the way he had strutted about just now as if he owned everything within his view—which, of course, he did—nevertheless irritated her. And there was another cause for prayer. She sometimes suffered from a lack of patience when it came to the quirks of others. Her mother had often suggested that she look on the qualities of others that frustrated her as habits beyond their control. Such people were to be pitied, not scolded, she had advised. But her mother had never met Levi Harmon who did not inspire pity on any level.

She turned the engraved silver knob of the room she was to share with Pleasant and found her sister-in-law staggering about the cabin bumping up against the furnishings as the train rocked from side to side, and yet clearly reluctant to touch anything. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut, fingers knitted together as she murmured prayers in the dialect of Swiss-German they always used in private. She was earnestly beseeching God’s mercy and deliverance from this place that was surely the devil’s own workshop.

“Pleasant?” Hannah caught her sister-in-law as the train rounded a curve. Although the woman was three years younger than Hannah’s age of thirty-two, she looked older. Her face was lined with anxiety. “It’s all going to work out,” Hannah assured her in their native tongue as she led her to the upholstered bench that was bolted to the floor in front of the dressing table.

They sat together with their backs to the mirror and the array of bottles and jars that filled the insets on top of the ornately curved dressing table. Hannah kept her arm around Pleasant’s shoulders as they rocked in rhythm to the train’s movement. “I spoke with Mr. Harmon. He’s going to do his best to see that we are more comfortable.”

“So much temptation,” Pleasant muttered, glancing about with wild-eyed worry.

“Not if we refuse to be drawn to it,” Hannah said.

There was a soft knock at the door and Hannah got up to answer it.

“Oh, miss,” a young woman in a starched uniform exclaimed. “I thought you would be at supper and Hans said that I should…” She clutched a large bundle of plain linens to her chest.

“Let me take those,” Hannah urged, reverting to English. She engaged in the brief tug-of-war it took to persuade the woman to release them. “These will do just fine. Please thank Mr. Winters for us and thank you, as well. I’ll get started and while we’re at supper you can finish, all right?”

The maid nodded then bowed her way out of the room, closing the door behind her. Hannah immediately began covering the large full-length mirror with one of the sheets. As if in a trance, Pleasant got up and unfolded another cloth to drape over the dressing table. “I suppose we could use the bench,” she said, speaking German once again and looking to Hannah for approval.

“Absolutely,” Hannah agreed as she covered the seat’s tufted satin with a plain muslin pillow case. “We’ll leave these for the maid,” she decided as she knelt on the sofa and pulled down the upper berth. It was made up with satin linens and a silk coverlet and Hannah suspected the sofa bed was similarly garbed.

To her surprise, Pleasant giggled. “The maid,” she exclaimed with glee.

Hannah saw her point. For two Amish women to be discussing what they could leave for the maid to finish was ludicrous. She started to laugh and soon the two of them were toppled on to the sofa holding their sides as their giggles subsided and then started all over again.

A knock at the door finally sobered them.

“Daughters?”

“Yes, Father,” Pleasant replied as both women sprang to their feet and Hannah smoothed the covers.

“Mr. Winters tells me that supper is served.”

Hannah glanced up at the taller, thinner Pleasant and straightened her sister-in-law’s prayer cap that had slipped sideways when they lay on the bed. Pleasant cupped her cheek and within the look the two women exchanged more tenderness and sisterly concern than either had felt for the other in all the years Hannah had been married to Pleasant’s brother. “Coming,” they answered in unison.