Faithful, ch. 9

Hannah had sent Alice home at noon and locked up her shop. She had a regular mission to complete. She had felt better these last few day after being in Duncan’s store again and able to mourn there. Gerrit had been so sweet in comforting her. She sensed he was afraid she would start crying every time they met now. There was something about being in the bookstore with all of Duncan’s belongings around her that helped her come to terms with his death.

She crossed McConnell Avenue and headed down Jack street. Few people knew anymore that it was named after her father. Most only knew him as Sam McConnell. Her father had laid out straight north-south and east-west streets and named them after his good friends. No crooked deer trails to follow in his town.

Gerrit had stopped by earlier but she didn’t expect to see him again until supper time. He had only been in town a week and already had a knack for knocking on her kitchen door just as her supper was ready. Four times they had shared supper, and she was glad for the company. Meals had been lonely since Duncan passed away, and she still couldn’t seem to cook for only herself. No matter how hard she tried there was always more than enough food for two. She had become much more familiar with Mr. Finnley than she ever imagined possible in such a short time.

As she crossed Duncan Avenue, a sadness filled her that this street was all people would have to remember him by. And all too soon there wouldn’t even be that. Just a street name with no meaning.

Hannah looked up Duncan Avenue and saw Gerrit striding the opposite direction on the other side of the street. “Mr. Finnley!” His head came up, and she waved to get his attention.

He smiled back and crossed the street to her. “This is a lovely day to be out.”

“It is a lovely day for a walk. But I didn’t mean to impose on you. You looked to be heading somewhere important.”

He shook his head. “Nothing pressing. I would love to join you for a walk.”

“Far be it from me to stop you from walking wherever you want.”

He furrowed his brow much like Duncan used to do. “You won’t stop me, but am I welcome?”

She knew she was being difficult with him but he had played along. “I am heading out of town and up that hill. You are most welcome to join me.” Did she want company where she was going? She could have easily let him walked on by, but she had called out to him.

At the edge of town stood a wooden bridge barely wide enough for a single wagon, worn and in need of repair. She knew all its vulnerabilities and guided Gerrit safely across.

“You’ve been up here before.”

“A few times.” She still wasn’t sure if she wanted company. The only other person who had been up here since her parents had died was Duncan.

“What will you do when that rickety bridge gives out?”

“I’ll wade across.”

Gerrit laughed. “I can actually picture that.”

She liked his laugh. It was warm and full. She stepped off the dirt trail that had once been a rutted wagon road and picked three black-eyed Susans. “Or maybe I’ll sprout wings and fly.”

“Like an angel. I can see you as an angel.”

“More like a hawk, keeping watch.” She picked a group of purple mountain harebell and a yellow baby snap dragon.

“Guarding your town from evil doers.” Gerrit handed her a black-eyed Susan.

She stared at it a moment. Duncan had never picked flowers with her. “My father’s town. There wasn’t a saloon in town until after his death. He wouldn’t allow them. Now they are like a disease.”

He plucked some baby snap dragons and another black-eyed Susan for her.

She laid them in the crook of her arm separate from the flowers she picked. “I was too young to understand and by the time I did understand, it was too late. But I have kept more from marring our town.”

“Is there something wrong with the flowers I picked?” He pointed to her two separate bundles, one in her hand away from the bouquet in her arm.

She fingered the ones she picked. “These have a special purpose. Yours I’ll put in a glass of water on my kitchen table.” She saw a smile tug at his full lips.

By the time they reached the end of the dirt trail where a small log cabin stood, the bouquet of flowers from Gerrit exceeded her own. Nearby more than a dozen boards crossed over the yawning opening of the Faithful mine. Mother had made sure that no one could enter the mine and get hurt or killed again . . . especially Hannah. “Papa,” she whispered to herself.

She turned to her first home. The split logs of the cabin stood vertically between the ground and the roof. As she stepped onto the creaky wooden stoop, Gerrit said, “You aren’t going in there?”

“Of course.”

“Is it safe?”

“I was born in this cabin. It’s safe.” She stepped inside the dim interior. Nothing had changed since the last time she was here. Not much had changed since they moved out and down into town when she was small. Though her father had still spent a considerable amount of time up here scraping the earth out for the gold he was sure was hiding. The gold that would help him build his resort hotel and get him out of the hole in the ground. All that remained in the cabin was a broken chair her mother used to sit in by the window to sew, a potbelly stove her mother managed to cook on, and the tattered mattress of her parents’ bed.

Gerrit followed her in. “How long did you live here?”

She could feel his presence behind her. “I was four when Father finally got our house in town finished. He was proud to say he built it all himself. After my father died, Mother and I moved into the shop next to Duncan and began making dresses and ladies hats. My mother taught me everything she knew about fabrics and millinery. My mother could figure out how to make something just by looking at it. She would fuss over it until she got it right.”

“Your mother taught you well. After seeing your work in your shop, I can’t say I’ve seen any finer work back east.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” She turned and left the cabin. Kneeling beside her mother’s gravestone next to the mine entrance, she set Gerrit’s flowers next to her and divided her flowers. One bundle she placed against the stone. She couldn’t talk openly to her mother or the Lord as she normally did, but they both knew what was in her heart. Gerrit was probably worried she would start crying again. She had already shed these tears. She took the other bundle to the mine entrance.

“Hannah, please don’t go in there.”

“I won’t.” She placed the flowers at the foot of the cross by the opening. She was surprised that the cross was upright. So often it was laying on the ground. Duncan had tried over and over to get it to stay in the ground, to no avail.

She turned to Gerrit. “My father’s still in there.”

“Cave-in?”

She nodded. “When a second cave-in trapped two other men, Mother put a stop to the search. They rescued those two men. Mother said it didn’t matter where my father’s body was because his soul was up in heaven with Jesus.”

“Did your father pull a lot of gold out of here?”

“Not really, but he always believed it was there and he would find it if he persevered. He believed the Lord had directed him to this very spot.” Long after there was any hope of her father still being alive, she would sit at the entrance expecting him to emerge and tell her how he was going to build her a castle on the hill and she would be the resident princess. She hadn’t cared about the castle. What it meant to her was her father could stop working in the ground and do all the things he promised to do with her . . . once the mine came in.

“Come this way. I want to show you a beautiful view.” She walked around the mine and up the hill above it. She turned to wait for Gerrit but he was right there behind her. “Oh!”

He smiled down at her. “Very beautiful.”

She couldn’t keep her mouth from twisting upward, but she tried. “Are you being fresh with me?”

“I like to think of it as candid.”

Her heart fluttered at his open attention. “Turn round.” Faithful spread out before them.

He let out a long whistle. “This is some view of the town. I knew McConnell and some of the other streets were laid out straight but each block looks to be the same size.”

“To the foot. He didn’t want any haphazard town. And all the businesses are of stone or brick. Once he got his town built he wasn’t going to have it consumed by fire.” She stepped back and sat on the boulder she had so many times.

Gerrit joined her. “What about the wooden houses?”

“He encouraged people to build with brick but couldn’t stop them from using wood on their own homes.”

“What about your little cabin? It’s wood.” He pointed to the shack below.

“It was only temporary.”

She stood and walked across the hillside. “We were supposed to live in the Majestic. He was going to build it as soon as his mine came in. We would sit up here sometimes, and he would describe the lawns and the decorations.”

Gerrit followed her with his hands clasped behind his back. “But he didn’t build it and someone else did.”

“The Coughlins swooped in here,” she made a motion like a diving bird, “and had it built in three months! They were just waiting to pounce. I won’t let them take over the whole town. It’s like the saloons, you have to stand up to them to stop them.”

“But with your father gone it never would have gotten built. So in a sense they fulfilled your father’s dream.”

“It was his dream. They had no right to build it!” She picked up a piece of rose quartz and rubbed it between her fingers. “They stole his dream from us, and it killed my mother to see someone else build it. It would have been better if it had not been built at all!” She tossed the rock aside.

“If it causes you such pain, why do you stay in Faithful?”

“My father’s dream was more than a resort. It was the whole town, a community working as one. Where separation of classes didn’t exist and people like Iona Wilson didn’t have to worry if there was going to be food on her table or if her children would go to bed hungry once again.”

“It sounds like your father was a bit idealistic.”

“Maybe he was but the Amish people do it. Do you know my father gave away most of his land to get people to come? He gave it to people who had nothing, offering them a better life.”

“You must get your big heart from him.”

“He didn’t have much growing up. He wanted to build a community where people weren’t looked down on for not having as much as their neighbor. Where people took care of one another.”

“I guess I don’t see how a resort fits in to equality for all. It would seem like your father would sit higher than them all.”

“He could have done so much good for the less fortunate with the money he made from tourists coming to spend their money. Three years ago, the Coughlins wanted to tear down that section of ramshackle housing along the river where Iona lives. If I hadn’t stepped in, Iona and the others like her wouldn’t have a roof over their heads. And that wasn’t the first time they tried something like that.

“You asked why I stay. I stay for my father’s idealistic dream and the people he wanted to help. With him gone I’m the only one left to keep his vision alive. And Duncan was here.” It was so hard for other people to truly understand what her father had been trying to do. But Gerrit was attentive, and she believed he was trying his best to understand.

As soon as the sun dipped behind the mountains, Gerrit headed her back into town. “I have kept you longer than you expected. Let me take you to supper on Hannah Street.”

He had kept her, but she enjoyed sharing her father’s dream with him. “I would appreciate a good meal, and it’s been a long while since I’ve seen Bert and Naomi.”

They walked up to Hannah street and entered the crowded dining room. They would have a wait.

She suddenly looked at her empty hands. “I forgot your flowers.” If she went quickly, she could probably return before they got seated.

With a hand on her arm, Gerrit stopped her. “I’ll pick you more.”

A waitress came out of the swinging door from the kitchen, and Hannah caught a glimpse of Bert. He saw her too and a moment later he pushed through the swinging door.

“Miss Hannah it has been too long. I am so sorry about Duncan.” Bert wrapped his thick, beefy arms around her and squeezed her like a bear. “I was afraid you would not come back by yourself, but I see you have found yourself another Duncan.”

“Almost. This is Duncan’s nephew Mr. Gerrit Finnley.” She turned to Gerrit. “This is Mr. Bert Bancroft.”

“Bertram!” A female voice hollered from the kitchen.

“The missus calls. She cannot do without me.” He winked “I will see you get seated next.”

“You don’t have to do that. We’ll wait.”

“Nonsense. If I really want to be in trouble, I tell the missus I made you wait.” He scooted back into the kitchen.

“I’m happy to see I was wrong.”

She looked up at Gerrit. “About what?”

“I wasn’t sure if you knew how to say my first name.”

She swatted him lightly on the arm, and he smiled.

The door to the kitchen hardly swung closed when Naomi pushed through. She was a foot shorter than her husband and not much bigger than a sapling topped with a brown and gray bun. Hannah had to bend over to return Naomi’s hug. “You have been away too long.”

“I know.”

A waitress walked near them, and Naomi stopped her. “Sissy, clear that table over by the window. We have special guests to seat.”

“That table is much too big for the two of us. We will be quite comfortable at that one.” She pointed to a vacant table in the back corner.

“That one is no good. It is small and dark. Bert and I use it when we are not too busy. This other is our best table.”

“You are busy and should save it for someone you will charge full price to.”

“I not charge you full price but I do him.” Naomi tipped her head toward Gerrit and winked.

“I doubt that. This is Duncan’s nephew.”

“I can see that. He looks just like him except for his eyes.” She looked up at him as a mother would her grown son. “Finn was a very good man, and we all miss him. He was a dear, dear man. We are sorry for your loss.” After tapping Gerrit on the chest, Naomi turned back to Hannah and sighed. “Very well. You are as stubborn as your parents. I will seat you at the no good table.”

Gerrit held her chair for her then seated himself.

“If another table comes open I will move you.”

Hannah touched Naomi’s arm. “I’m comfortable here. You better help Bert in the kitchen. I don’t want burned food.”

Naomi put her hands to her cheeks. “Who knows what he has done to my kitchen already. He is always trying to make up new foods. I still don’t know that hiring two other cooks was very good. He has more time to play with food in there. Why he does not stay behind the desk or take the money . . .?” She traipsed off to the kitchen, shaking her head.

“They’re a sweet old couple.”

“I can see that. And they care a great deal for you.”

The meal was pleasant and, Naomi wouldn’t let Gerrit pay for anything. The temperature had dropped since sunset. Hannah hadn’t expected to be out at this time of night and so she hadn’t brought her shawl. She grabbed her arms to try to warm herself. Gerrit quickly swung out of his coat and draped it about her shoulders. She poked her arms through the sleeves. His warmth wrapped around her. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do after occupying all your time.”

“I rather enjoyed today.” She had very much enjoyed his company. It was the first time since Duncan’s passing, she hadn’t felt lonely. She would miss Gerrit too much if he left.

She had to find a way to get him to stay.