Page 17 of Hope’s Enduring Echo

Jennie

At the end of the pipeline, Jennie stopped and arched backward, grinding her fists at the base of her spine. A groan eased from her lips. What a day. What a long, miserable, lonely day after a long, miserable, lonely night because she’d stayed in her bedroom through supper and until daybreak.

She plopped down, dangled her legs, and stared at the rushing river a couple of yards beyond the toes of her boots. When she was younger, she liked to toss a flower or twig into the river and watch it sail away. If only she could send the uncomfortable feelings coursing through her middle away so easily. Tumultuous? Oh, yes.

Strange how quickly she’d become accustomed to having company on the final miles of her route. For close to two years, she’d inspected the pipeline by herself. She’d been lonely sometimes, but she hadn’t dwelled on it. Walking the route alone was her responsibility, so she did it and sought out moments of joy along the way—like waving at the passing train, watching a hawk soaring overhead, and laughing at a bunny she’d startled into a zig-zagging escape. But without Leo’s company, the pipeline seemed twice as long, the responsibility complete drudgery. She hadn’t seen one thing all day that gave her spirit a lift. Because she hadn’t looked.

Hadn’t looked…

Guilt pressed down on her, and she sucked in a hissing breath. She pressed her hand to the little notepad where she’d recorded a leaking split between two staves only a quarter mile from the place where the pipeline entered the hillside. She knew from experience that breaks could happen quickly. It was the nature of the pipe’s wood construction. But breaks were more common when the weather turned cold. She wasn’t expecting one during the warmest months of the year. Had she been distracted by Leo’s presence and therefore missed something? Would catching the spot earlier have prevented an actual leak from forming? There was no way to know now, but she hoped the waterway men wouldn’t blame her—or, rather, Daddy—for the leak.

But maybe she really did want them to blame Daddy. Maybe she wanted them to accuse him of wrongdoing the way he’d accused her and Leo. Maybe she wanted his feelings to be stomped the way he’d stomped hers. Maybe she even wanted the waterway men to—

Another wave of guilt, this one stronger than the first, washed the ugly thoughts away. She peeked skyward and grimaced. “I’m sorry, God. I know I’m supposed to be kind to others, tenderhearted, and willing to forgive. But when Daddy sent away the friend You gave me, he kind of broke my heart.” Her chin quivered, and tears distorted her vision, making the clouds waver. “That’s pretty hard to forgive.”

She sighed and stared at the water again. It would be easier to forgive Daddy if he apologized. But she couldn’t count on that. Once upon a time, Daddy would’ve admitted he was wrong and made amends. But she didn’t have that daddy anymore, and she feared she never would.

Her chest went tight, so tight it hurt to breathe. She looked across the river to the sheer rock wall behind the train tracks. Without thinking about what she was doing, she pulled in a full breath, cupped her hands beside her mouth, and yelled, “I need hope!”

The mountain bounced back “hope, hope, hope,” each repetition softer until the wind whisked it away completely.

Her dry, aching throat advised against more yelling, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “God, give me hope!”

The echoing “hope, hope, hope,” although it was only her own voice coming back to her, somehow brought a flutter of assurance to her soul. She turned around on the pipe and clambered onto the patch of ground above the pipe’s end. She paused, then looked back to the spot in the bend where Leo used to join her. A silly thing to do. He wouldn’t show up again after what Daddy had said. But he wouldn’t stay away out of resentment. He was honorable. He wouldn’t go against Daddy’s wishes.

Funny how well she knew him after such a short time. An odd thought sneaked into a far corner of her mind. Had she attached herself to him so thoroughly because he was the only person close to her age she’d been able to spend significant time with since moving to the cabin? Was it not Leo himself but only the opportunity to engage with another young person that inspired their friendship?

As quickly as the idea came, she discounted it. She’d encountered those two boys in the drugstore and hadn’t longed for more time with them. Yet from the time she closed herself in her bedroom yesterday evening, she’d pined for Leo. For her friend.

A plan took shape on the heels of her dismal thought. She rolled her eyes upward, envisioning the calendar that hung in their kitchen. The first weekend in July was two weeks and four days away. She would ride the train into Canon City for shopping and church. Would Mama stay with Daddy again, like she had last time? If so, Jennie would be able to do whatever she pleased, as long as she got the shopping done. When she visited the hotel, which she and Mama always did, she would most likely encounter Leo.

Her heart thrummed in anticipation. Then her conscience pricked. But stubborn rationalizing rose above the tickle of guilt. Daddy had banished Leo from coming to their cabin, but had he forbidden her from seeking him out? She chewed her chapped lip, reasoning she wouldn’t be disobeying Daddy if her path crossed with Leo’s in town. Deep down, she knew what Daddy meant when he sent Leo away. But it was such an unfair declaration. Jennie knew—as did Mama, Aunt Delia, and Uncle Prime—that Leo was not a bad influence. Leo was her God-sent friend. Daddy should not have sent him away.

After this dismal day, she needed to anticipate something good. Seeing Leo again would be something good. Something even better than good. It would give her a splash of that hope she was hollering about. What would it hurt to seek out Leo in town? Daddy would stay behind at the cabin, so he wouldn’t even know.

But God would know.

Jennie gritted her teeth. She squinted at the sky. “But, God, he was wrong.”

Honor your father and mother.

Oh, why couldn’t she ignore what she’d been taught? Because she loved her parents and they’d taught her to obey God, that’s why. She kicked at a clump of grass. It would be so much easier if she didn’t love Daddy. Then his morose attitude and untrue suppositions about Leo wouldn’t matter. But she loved Daddy and missed him so much. The loving and missing him was a constant ache in the center of her chest. She wanted the daddy from her growing-up years to return to her.

She jerked in the direction of the wall and screeched, “Ho-o-ope!”

“Ho-o-ope! Ho-o-ope! Ho-o-ope!”

With the mountain’s echo rolling in her heart, she set off on the lonely walk home.

—

On Tuesday morning, Jennie sent a note with the train engineer about the leak she’d discovered. Wednesday, a different kind of engineer, dispatched by the waterway men, met up with Jennie mid-route, and she showed him the split. The man asked for Mr. Ward, which made Jennie’s stomach churn in nervousness. But when Jennie said Mr. Ward was under the weather and couldn’t come out, the man didn’t seem bothered. He measured the area, made several notes in an official-looking notebook, and then thanked Jennie for her assistance and left, none the wiser that he’d spoken with the actual linewalker.

Mama expressed relief at suppertime that their secret hadn’t been uncovered, but Daddy kept eating as if nothing of concern had taken place. Mama told Jennie she didn’t need to help with kitchen cleanup and sent her outside with Rags. “Someone needs to run the energy out of him,” Mama said, but Jennie suspected Mama was really giving Jennie a chance to escape Daddy’s presence.

So Jennie romped on the lawn with the puppy, aware of Daddy watching from the other side of the window. Back when she played with Rex, if the dog did something funny, she looked to see if Mama or Daddy saw it so they could laugh with her. But no matter how cute Rags was while wrestling with his tied-in-knots shirtsleeve or barking at grasshoppers that had the audacity to invade his domain, she never once glanced Daddy’s way. She didn’t want to witness his disinterest.

Thursday morning, Mama walked out with Jennie into the long morning shadows and pressed a sealed envelope into her hand. “Will you please flag down the train, give this note to Mr. Rawling, and ask him to deliver it for me? I know this will waylay you setting off on the route, but it’s important.”

Jennie glanced at the envelope. Mama had addressed it to the doctor who’d tended Daddy’s broken leg. A chill exploded across her frame. “Why are you writing to Dr. Whiteside? Are you sick?”

Mama chuckled softly, giving Jennie’s cheek a sweet pat. “I’m right as rain, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I want him to know I intend to stop by his office for a little visit on July 3 when we’re in Canon City.”

Jennie released a little huff. “I’d forgotten our next time in town will be Independence Day weekend. Do you think Daddy will come with us since it’s a holiday?” She knew she shouldn’t even consider disobeying Daddy. She’d prayed repeatedly for God to take away the desire to see Leo. But temptation to meet with him at the hotel still pulled hard. If Daddy went to town, too, there’d be no chance of sneaking a few minutes with Leo. Maybe it would be best. Her guilty conscience would haunt her forever if she carried through with her plan. But never seeing Leo again might also haunt her forever.

Mama’s expression turned pensive. “Your daddy used to love going to the parade, the community picnic at the park, and fireworks when we lived in town. Remember?”

Jennie remembered. The memories of those happy days were fuzzy, though, as if they weren’t really hers at all but only something someone else had told her about.

Mama sighed. “Even if I did convince him to go, it’s hard to know if he’d enjoy it now.”

Jennie hung her head. “He doesn’t enjoy anything now. Not even Rags. I thought for sure after he picked out the pup’s name he’d show some interest in him.”

A sly yet still-sad smile curved Mama’s lips. “He does—just not when he thinks anyone is looking. Give it time. Rags will win him over. I believe your daddy will one day walk the hills with Rags the way he used to with Rex.”

Jennie didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to disappoint her mother. But Mama would have to believe by herself. Until Jennie saw it with her own eyes, she wouldn’t believe it.

“Hurry to the bridge, now, so you’ll be there when the train comes around the bend.” Mama pressed a kiss on Jennie’s cheek. “I’ll see you at noontime. Well, probably closer to an hour past noontime since you’ll get a late start.”

Daddy would probably be napping by one o’clock. That suited Jennie fine. She waved goodbye to Mama and ambled down the rise to the footbridge. As she approached it, something caught her eye. A brown piece of paper was rolled and stuck between two boards on the far side of the bridge. Could it have blown out a train window and gotten jammed there? It didn’t seem likely. Someone must have put it there.

Curiosity propelled her across the footbridge as quickly as possible. She pulled the paper loose and unrolled a large waxed envelope. A startled gasp escaped. Someone had written her name in a bold masculine script right across the center. Even before she opened the flap, she knew who’d left it. She looked over her shoulder toward the cabin, then up and down the line. Certain she wasn’t being observed, she scurried over the lines of track and leaned against the rock wall. Only then, tucked fully into shadow, did she peel back the flap and peek inside.

A single sheet of paper—a letter, she realized—waited for her. Her heart thumping like the bass drum in a parade band, she pressed the page flat and read.

Dear Jennie,

I trust this missive finds you. I apologize for resorting to such unusual means of communication, but I didn’t know how else to reach you.

First, a sad confession: I miss our daily talks. But though I do not see you daily, I think of you and pray for you. I pray especially that your daddy will find complete healing and that you will cling to hope and not harbor bitterness.

Jennie gulped as she read “not harbor bitterness.” Sometimes she thought Leo knew her better than she knew herself. Mama had taught her from the time she was small that God the Father gave His children good gifts. He’d given one of the best when He brought Leo into her life. Mama also said she could trust her heavenly Father to bestow what she needed. She needed hope—there was no question about it, and she was doing her best to not let it go. But did she need Leo’s friendship, or did she merely want it?

The bitterness Leo was praying against tried once more to sneak in. Jennie tamped it down and returned her attention to the letter.

Next, I doubt any guide will make hunting as fun as my mountain goat friend did, but I have contacted a local businessman who is as interested as I in locating the remaining bones. I thought you might be glad that I don’t have to give up seeking. He and I will be in your area on Saturday. And this leads me to a request.

When we parted on Monday, I neglected to remove the drawing of the beetle from your sketchbook. I would very much like to have it—a memento of our time together. Would you be kind enough to place it in this envelope and return it to its spot at the footbridge? I will retrieve it on Saturday.

Jennie sucked in a breath and stared at the gap between boards where she’d found the rolled envelope. Would Leo spend every Saturday with this businessman now that Jennie wasn’t guiding him? If so, she could set aside anticipation of seeing him in town on Independence Day weekend. The thought stung her heart, but at the same time, she was a little glad. Knowing he wouldn’t be available removed any chance of her disobeying Daddy. Maybe God was sparing her conscience.

There was one more paragraph written on the page.

Lastly, when I came to Canon City for the summer, I asked God to lead me to a historical find but also to like-minded friends. He blessed me with you, your mother, and your aunt and uncle. Although my time with you has proved short in duration, our hours of togetherness will linger always in my dearest memories.

Give Rags an ear scratch for me. I hope to find a reply from you at the footbridge.

Fondly,

Leo Day

Jennie crushed the letter to her chest. Of course she would leave a reply. She’d made the drawing for him—he should have it. And she would write a long letter telling him all he meant to her. Words began tripping through her mind, and her fingers itched to record them on paper. But first she must give Mama’s note to the train engineer. Then she had to inspect the line. The letter would have to wait.