Hannah's Journey

Levi’s idea of a simple supper was a three-course meal as opposed to the five-course meal his staff would normally serve. He surveyed the cold cuts, the potato salad, the dark rye bread sliced into thick wedges waiting on the sideboard. They would begin the meal with barley soup and end it with one of his cook’s delicious key lime pies. It was the last of those he would enjoy for some time, Levi suspected as he turned to see that Hans was preparing to pour a dark lager into tall glasses.

“Our guests do not indulge,” he said.

“But they are of German descent. I thought that this particular lager would…”

Levi shrugged. “Start with water and offer tea or milk.”

Hans hesitated. “For you, as well, sir?”

“Yes.” He turned as he heard the trio coming down the corridor, murmuring to each other in the Swiss-German they’d been raised to speak among their own. He wondered if it would surprise them to realize that he understood every word and decided he would leave them in the dark about that, at least for now. He didn’t want to raise their curiosity regarding his past or how he had come to learn their language. “Welcome,” he said jovially, indicating that Gunther should take one end of the table and then ushering the two women to the banquette built into the car against the windows.

In German, the woman Pleasant—who seemed to be anything but—murmured a comment about the magenta, tufted-velvet cushioning. She took her seat but did so with an expression she might have worn had she been asked to sit on a hot stove. Hannah gave him an apologetic smile and sat next to her sister-in-law.

Within seconds, a steaming bowl of soup had been served at each place and yet the three of them sat staring down at their bowls. Levi snapped open his white linen napkin and tucked it under his chin into the collar of his pristine white shirt. Still, they made no move, so he picked up his spoon.

“Shall we pray?” Gunther stretched out his hand to Pleasant who in turn took Hannah’s hand.

Dumbly, Levi stared down at Hannah’s hand extended palm-up to him and Gunther’s large work-worn palm stretching to cover the extra space from one end of the small dining table to the other. Levi put down his spoon, stretched to meet Gunther’s rough fingers and then placed his palm on top of Hannah’s. Her head was bowed but he saw her eyes shift to focus on their joined hands.

Gunther frowned when he observed that connection but then closed his eyes and the four of them sat in silence with heads bowed for several long moments. In spite of the lengthy time allotted for a simple mealtime grace, Levi couldn’t complain. He was far too busy analyzing the sensation of touching Hannah’s palm. Her skin was smooth and warm and once, when her fingers twitched, he responded automatically by wrapping his fingers around hers. Hannah’s breath quickened but she did not glance his way.

Gunther’s head remained bowed for so long that Levi could no longer see steam rising from the soup. At last, the older man ended the prayer by looking up and reaching for his napkin. Instantly, Hannah slid her fingers from Levi’s. She busied herself unfolding her napkin and placing it across her lap, then waited for her father-in-law to take the first spoonful of soup before dipping her spoon into her bowl.

“My family and I are indebted to you, Mr. Harmon, not only for your assistance in finding my grandson, but also in respecting our ways.”

“Not at all. I should have thought about the rooms I offered and their furnishings.”

There was a period of silence broken only by the clink of sterling soup spoons on china bowls and the rhythmic churning of the train’s wheels on metal tracks.

“How is it you know of our ways?” Gunther asked after a time. “After all, we Amish have not been in Florida for long.”

Levi saw Hannah glance at him and understood by her expression that it was a question she had wondered about as well.

“My company travels all over the Midwest and eastern states of America, sir. That includes Pennsylvania where I believe there is a large established community of Amish?”

“Several of them,” Gunther agreed and seemed satisfied with the response.

“How did you come to reside in Florida, sir?”

Gunther smiled. “My son was something of an adventurer. He and a friend had traveled to Florida during the time of their Rumspringa. That’s the time when…”

“I’m familiar with the tradition,” Levi said. When Hannah gave him a curious glance he added, “Isn’t that the time when parents permit—even encourage—their young people to explore the outside world before making their commitment to your faith?”

“That’s right,” Gunther said.

All three members of the Goodloe family were regarding him with interest, so Levi turned the conversation back to the original topic. “So your son came to Florida and…”

“When he returned, he could talk of nothing else. The weather. The possibility of growing crops year-round. The opportunities.” Gunther shook his head and smiled at the memory. “Even after he and Hannah had married and he had joined my bakery business, he would bring it up from time to time.”

“So you just picked up and moved?” Levi directed this question to Hannah, but it was Gunther who replied.

“As I said, we were in the bakery business and one night there was a fire. We lost everything. A few years earlier his mother had died and I had remarried. My second wife was from another Amish community in another state. They did things differently there and she was having some problems settling in. My son saw it all as God’s sign that we should start over someplace else.”

“Did you buy land then in Sarasota?”

“No. We did what we knew best. My son and I opened a bakery.” Gunther looked a little wistful for a moment and murmured, “It was all seeming to work out until…”

“My husband was killed when the wagon he was driving was struck by a motor vehicle,” Hannah said softly.

“My only boy,” Gunther said, his voice quavering.

Everyone concentrated on finishing their soup, then Hans directed the removal of the soup bowls and the serving of the cold cuts and side dishes. Levi was well aware that neither of the women had contributed to the limited conversation. It was going to be a long supper. He waited until everyone had been served then turned his attention to Hannah. “Tell me about your son,” he said.

Again, the slightest frown of disapproval from the old man, but Hannah appeared not to notice—or perhaps chose to ignore it.

“I have told you that his name is Caleb. He is eleven years old though tall for his age. He has blue eyes and his hair…” She paused as she appeared to notice Levi’s hair for the first time. “His hair is like corn silk,” she murmured and quickly averted her eyes to focus on her food.

“Do you think he might have changed into clothing that is less conspicuous?”

“Perhaps.”

“Where would he get such clothing?” Pleasant asked and then immediately glanced at her father and lowered her eyes.

Hannah shrugged. “I am only guessing. I mentioned the English hat. His Amish hat was still on its peg.” Her eyes glittered with tears that Levi guessed she would be far too proud to shed in his presence. They were tears of worry and exhaustion and he had to force himself not to cover her hand with his and assure her it would all turn out for the best. For after all, hadn’t it turned out that way for him after he’d run away to join the circus when he was only a few years older than Caleb was?

“I’m sure that the boy will turn up,” Gunther said as he pushed the last of his potato salad onto his fork with the crust of his bread. “We thank you for your hospitality, sir.” He placed his napkin on the table and pushed back his chair.

Levi knew that he should simply permit the supper to end so he could attend to the work he’d brought on board with him and yet he wanted more time. Why? Because of the lovely young widow? Or because he was for the first time seeing the effect that his running away must have had on his grandmother?

“Now that you’ve told me of your bakery, Mr. Goodloe. I’d be curious to have your opinion of my cook’s key lime pie. Would you be so kind as to try it?”

“My daughter is the baker, sir.”

Pleasant’s cheeks flamed a ruddy brick red as Levi signaled Hans to clear and serve. “And you, Mrs. Goodloe? Do you also contribute to the wares available at your father-in-law’s bakery?”

“My daughter-in-law handles the housework for our family,” Gunther replied before Hannah could open her mouth. “She is an excellent cook and has been a good influence on my younger daughters.”

Levi noticed that Pleasant’s scowl deepened. “You have sisters then, Miss Goodloe?”

“Half sisters,” she corrected, but said no more.

“Pleasant’s mother died when Pleasant was just coming of age. After a time, I remarried so that she would have a mother.”

“And these other daughters are the product of that marriage?”

“Ja.”

“So they have stayed at home with their mother?” Gathering information from these people was like organizing a menagerie into a parade.

“Sadly, their mother died in childbirth.”

“I am doubly sorry for your losses, sir,” Levi said.

Gunther smiled at Hannah. “Our Hannah has become like a mother to my younger girls,” he said. “God has blessed us.”

“I see.” Levi would hardly have called the loss of two wives and Hannah’s husband a blessing, but he knew better than to debate the point.

“We have indeed been blessed. I only hope God sees fit to bless us yet again by leading us to Caleb,” Hannah said in a barely audible voice.

Levi hadn’t realized that he had continued to study Hannah far beyond the casual glance her comment might have indicated until Gunther cleared his throat and made a show of tasting his first bite of the pie. The two women followed his lead and all three smiled at Levi as if they had just tasted the best key lime pie ever made.

But Levi had turned his thoughts back to the situation at hand. Here was Gunther, an experienced entrepreneur in his own right, and while Levi did not hold with divine intervention, he had to admit that Gunther had come along at a time when he could use the opinion of a fellow businessman. He needed someone he could trust, someone who had no interest in his business, to review the ledgers for the past season. A fresh set of eyes. But he dismissed the idea as ludicrous. How would an unschooled, Amish baker possibly find what he had not been able to uncover himself?

He looked up and realized that once again Gunther had laid his napkin aside and this time he was standing. The two women had followed suit. Levi scrambled to his feet. “Forgive me,” he said. “I’m afraid that at about this time of night my mind often goes to the business of the day past and that to come tomorrow.”

“You are worried?” Gunther’s eyes narrowed in sympathy.

Levi shrugged. “Always. A great many people rely on me, sir.”

“And who do you rely on, Levi Harmon?”

The older man’s pale blue eyes were kind and concerned. It struck Levi that if his father had lived, he would be about the same age as this man was now. He felt his throat tighten with the bile of loneliness that he had carried with him from the day his parents had died. Instead of responding to Gunther’s question, he motioned for Hans to join them.

“Hans, I believe our guests are ready to retire for the night. Will you show Mr. Goodloe to your quarters?”

“If you don’t mind,” Gunther added, directing his comment to Hans.

“Not at all, sir. I took the liberty of moving your belongings to my cabin while you were enjoying your supper.”

“Then we’ll say good night.” Gunther waited while the two women nodded to Levi and Hans and walked down the corridor to the guest room. Then he clasped Levi’s shoulder. “May God be with you, Levi Harmon.”

And as he watched Hans lead the older man to the plainer quarters, Levi understood that Gunther had not missed the fact that Levi had avoided answering his question. The fact was Levi had no response, for since he’d been a boy, there had been no one to watch over him.

Chapter Four

Hannah found sleep impossible that night. Her mind reeled. Where was her son and had he indeed run off with the circus, or was she on some wild goose chase while Caleb was out there somewhere alone? Every clack of the wheels might be taking her farther from him.

She sat on the edge of the upper berth that she’d insisted on taking. Below her, Pleasant’s even breathing seemed to have fallen into a rhythm that matched the rumble of the train. Outside the window, Hannah saw the silhouette of telephone poles standing like sentinels in the fields. As the train rounded a bend, the noise flushed a flock of large blackbirds and they scattered into the night sky. The window faced east and she could see the breaking of dawn on the horizon.

“Please keep him safe until I can come for him,” she prayed as she watched the sky turn from black to charcoal and then pink. “He is my life,” she added and closed her eyes tight against the memory of the long, lonely years that had passed since her husband’s death. Years when her only solace had been Caleb.

Perhaps that was it. Perhaps she and others had put so much pressure on him in the absence of his father. How often had she heard someone remind him that he was now the man of the family? How often had someone suggested that she needed his support and help more than ever because all she had was him? Perhaps his need for freedom wasn’t that at all. Perhaps it was more a need to be what he was—a boy. A child.

Oh, how she wished she might talk to someone—a male who might understand the workings of a young boy’s mind. Perhaps Mr. Winters, she thought.

Outside the cabin door she heard footsteps. Given the early hour, she assumed it would be Hans Winters, up before dawn to see to the needs of his master and the guests. She eased herself down from the upper berth, taking care not to wake Pleasant and got dressed as quickly as she could, given the need to fumble blindly for the black straight pins that held the skirt and bodice of her dress in place. Once properly dressed, she wrapped her hair—grown now to past her waist—round and round her hand and coiled it into the casing of her prayer cap.

When she slipped into the passageway, she paused for a moment listening for sounds. That way led to Hans’s quarters and the kitchen. The opposite way led to the observation room and dining room. She heard the clink of silver and assumed Hans would be setting the dining table for their breakfast.

“May I help you?” she asked as she entered the opulent room. It would be the perfect opportunity to engage the servant in conversation. The two of them working together to prepare the room for breakfast.

But instead of Hans, she found herself facing Levi. He was sitting at a small drop-down desk on one side of the large sideboard, stirring a cup of coffee. “Not unless you’ve a head for figures,” he grumbled.

Actually, I do, Hannah thought but understood instinctively that the circus owner would no doubt laugh at the very idea that she might be able to solve whatever problem that he clearly could not. Still, if the idea brought a smile to his face that would certainly be preferable to the scowl that darkened his deep-set eyes at the moment. “I apologize,” she murmured, turning to go. “I assumed that Mr. Winters…”

“Kitchen,” he grumbled, turning his attention back to the ledger before him.

The table was already set so she turned to go. But she had retreated only two steps before he stopped her. “I’m sorry. Is there a problem, Hannah?”

“Not at all,” she said brightly.

“You slept well?” He seemed to be studying her features closely.

“Not really,” she admitted, knowing that her face surely showed the effects of her restless night. “But it was not the accommodations,” she hastened to assure him. “The berth was quite comfortable and the rhythm of the train’s movement was a little like rocking a child.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Upper or lower?”

“Upper,” she replied and felt her cheeks flush at the impropriety of this particular topic. “Well, I’ll leave you to your work,” she said.

“Why were you looking for Hans? It’s not yet dawn and if there’s no problem with your accommodations.…”

She took a moment to consider her options. Levi was a man—younger than Hans and perhaps more likely to remember what it had been like to be a boy of eleven. “I am worried about my son,” she admitted.

“If he took off with my crew, Hannah, we will find him and until we do, I assure you that he is in good company. No harm will come to him.”

“But what if he didn’t? What if he just ran away? What if he got to the circus grounds too late and your company had already left and he just decided to go off on his own?” The thoughts that she had successfully held at bay through the long night now came tumbling out. “What if even now with every mile we go I am moving farther and farther from him? Perhaps I was too hasty in my assumption. Perhaps I should…”

Levi pushed the ledger aside and indicated that she should take a seat on the end of the tufted settee closest to the dining chair he had pulled over to the desk. “It seems to me that you have ample reason to believe that your son is with my company. From what you have told me, the boy is a planner and as such he would have timed his departure so that he did not run the risk of missing the train.”

“But…”

“And even if he did miss it, we are going to know that within a matter of hours. We are scheduled to arrive in Jonesville just after breakfast. The company will be doing two shows there today—a matinee and an evening performance. If Caleb is with them we will find him.”

“And if not?”

“Then I will see that you and your family are on the next train back to Sarasota and I will personally notify the authorities there to begin the search for your son. One step at a time, Hannah.” He stood up and poured a second cup of coffee from the silver coffeepot on the sideboard and handed it to her. “Drink this,” he said. “You’re running on nerves and you’re going to need your strength for the day ahead, whatever it may bring.”

“Thank you,” she murmured as she took a sip of the hot strong brew. “You’ve been more than kind to us. I assure you that we’ll be out of your way soon.” She took a second sip. “Do you recall—I mean, Caleb is a boy of eleven and he’s had so much responsibility thrust upon him since the death of his father. It occurred to me that this business isn’t really about joining the circus at all.”

“It’s about finding his way,” Levi said. “Testing himself—and you.”

“In what way is he testing me?”

Levi shrugged. “He may not realize it but he wants to see if you will come after him and, if you do, whether or not things will be different for the two of you once you find him.”

“I love him,” Hannah whispered and her voice quaked.

“Enough to one day let him go?”

“He’s eleven,” she protested.

“I said one day, Hannah. Don’t make the mistake of making this boy your reason for living. Don’t try to mold him into some kind of replacement for the life you thought you would have with your husband.”

“I wouldn’t. I don’t,” she said firmly and stood up. Flustered with irritation at his assumption that he knew anything at all about her or her life, she started to hand him the coffee cup then thought better of it and placed the cup and saucer on the silver tray that held the coffee service on the sideboard. “Thank you for the coffee,” she said. “I expect Pleasant will be awake by now—she’s used to rising early for the baking.…” She started toward the passageway just as the train lurched around a curve.

Surefooted as a tiger, he steadied her before she could fall, his hands grasping her upper arms and remaining there until she regained her balance.

“Thank you,” she whispered and pulled away.

Levi stood watching her hurry along the corridor that ran the length of his private car. It wasn’t until she opened the door to her cabin and disappeared that he realized he’d been holding his breath and clenching his fists as if somehow that might keep the warmth of touching her from running away as she had.

“It’s not the same,” he muttered as he turned back to the desk, slammed shut the ledger and then retrieved his suit jacket from the back of the chair. But the picture of Hannah’s son striking out in the middle of the night, slipping away from the only house he’d probably ever known as home and heading off into the unknown stirred memories of Levi’s own youth that he had thought long since forgotten.

Suddenly, he recalled with graphic clarity the combination of fear and exhilaration he’d felt that night. Equally as strong came the memory of his doubt and regret after he’d been on the road for only a day. “It was different for me,” he muttered as he poured himself a second cup of coffee. “I was fourteen.”

He heard the sound of conversation in the passageway, drained his coffee and turned to face whatever this day might bring. Gunther Goodloe was speaking in low tones in his native tongue as he led Hannah and Pleasant to the dining room.

“Good morning, Mr. Goodloe. I trust your accommodations were satisfactory?”

“Yes, thank you for allowing the change.” He indicated that the two women should take the places on the settee where they had sat for supper the evening before.

“Please take my place, sir,” Levi urged, holding out the chair for the older man. “You’ll have a better view of the passing scenery from here,” he added, knowing full well that he had decided upon the change in seating abruptly so that he would not have to touch Hannah again during morning prayers.

On cue Hans appeared with a tea cart loaded with covered sterling serving dishes. He lifted the cover on the first and offered a selection of sausages and bacon to the two women, then Mr. Goodloe and finally Levi. He repeated this process with a chafing dish filled with steaming scrambled eggs, then another with a selection of breads and rolls, and finally offered each guest butter and jam. Meanwhile, the maid traveling with them filled glasses with milk and offered coffee and tea.

Through all of this Levi kept up a running conversation about the countryside they were traversing. “I’m afraid the boom times ended for Florida after the hurricane of ’26,” he said.

“And yet your business seems to be thriving,” Gunther replied.

“Even in hard times people need to be entertained,” Levi replied. “Perhaps especially in hard times.” Knowing it was inevitable, Levi extended his hands to Pleasant and Gunther. “Shall we pray?”

It took a moment before he realized that because he had extended the invitation, the others were waiting for him to bow his head. Forgetting that Amish grace was said in silence, he cleared his throat and murmured thanks for the food and the company and then added, “And may today bring Hannah the news she needs to know that her son is safe. Amen.”

When he looked up he was surprised to see Gunther frowning and Hannah blushing. For her part, Pleasant had focused all of her attention on the food before her and he couldn’t help but wonder what law of propriety he had just broken. Was it the prayer? He hadn’t prayed in years and yet thought he had done a passable job of offering grace before a meal. And then he understood his mistake. It was bad enough that he had offered the prayer aloud, but he had also singled Hannah out for special attention and called her by her given name.

“I apologize, sir,” he said, refusing to ignore the situation. “It’s just that we are all concerned about your grandson and I suppose that has made me feel a particular closeness to your family. Nevertheless, I was too familiar just now. I hope you will forgive my lapse in manners.”

“Not at all,” Gunther replied. “We are in your world now. I am honored that you have shown such concern for my grandson’s well-being. If you are more comfortable calling us by our given names, then that’s the least we can do.” He drank a long swallow of his milk. “I have noticed that Mr. Winters is distinctly uncomfortable with such formality,” he added.