Page 33 of Hope’s Enduring Echo
Etta
Etta went to the open doorway and looked out again. The clock had chimed the sixth hour a few minutes ago. Suppertime. But the darkened landscape made it seem close to bedtime. She wrung her hands, worry plaguing her. Why hadn’t she thought to give Jennie a lantern and matches before the girl left to finish today’s inspection? By noon, the clouds were already thick overhead and appeared gray and ominous over the northernmost peaks. The way the wind had started gusting while she and Jennie ate their picnic lunch, Etta should have surmised the weather would take a turn. Her concern for Claude was consuming her too much. But other concerns rolled through her now.
Had Leo joined up with Jennie, as he’d done all last week? If so, at least Jennie wasn’t out there alone. Yesterday, Leo told them he planned to go up to the dig site and work. Surely, the unpleasant weather changed his mind. But what if it hadn’t? What if he’d gone after all, and what if Jennie went with him? As dark as it was, they might not be able to safely find their way back again.
The scent of scorched broth sent her scurrying to the stove. She moved the pot to the tile in the middle of the table and gave the beans and ham a stir. After placing the lid over the steaming beans, she rounded up every lamp and lantern in the house, lit them all, and put one on each windowsill. Except Claude’s. He wouldn’t want the bright light in his eyes. But the glow could guide Jennie and Leo in. Then she returned to the doorway. She squinted across the grounds, seeking any sign of her daughter.
Suddenly Claude was beside her at the doorway. She hugged his arm to her side. “It’s getting stormy.” A ridiculous thing to say, especially since he’d spent every hour since waking sitting at the window, watching the storm roll in.
“I need the outhouse.”
She released him and reached for the closest lantern. “Better take this with you. Otherwise, you might trip on something.”
He shook his head. “I’m fine.” He moved out the door and off the stoop.
Rags trotted over, his toenails clicking on the floor, and rubbed against her leg. He whined, what she interpreted as permission to be excused, too. Etta shook her head at the pup, a smile of affection pulling at her lips. “You can’t let him out of your sight, can you? Well, all right. Go with him. He won’t mind.”
Rags darted out, and Etta observed the two of them cross in front of the cabin and then disappear around the corner. She turned her attention to the northwest, where Jennie should appear. The wind roared down the ravine and flapped Etta’s apron skirt. It chilled her, an odd sensation for late July, usually their warmest month. Maybe she should go inside and close the door against the wind. But her feet didn’t move. She stayed in place, eyes aimed at the slope. After what seemed an eternity, she saw what looked like a hat bobbing. Then two young people, one a head taller than the other, topped the slope and came steadily toward the cabin.
Etta released a little sob and ran out to greet them. She embraced Jennie, laughing to keep herself from crying. Holding her daughter brought a rush of relief so great, her knees felt wobbly. She curled her arm around Jennie’s waist and caught hold of Leo’s arm. “Come on, you two. Supper’s waiting. Let’s go warm up. I don’t think it’s ever been this cold out here in the middle of summer.”
“Or as dark this early in the day.” Jennie shivered. “It’ll feel good to get inside. That sky looks like it could let loose any minute.” When they stepped over the threshold, Jennie looked toward Claude’s chair. “Is Daddy asleep already?”
“No.” Etta took bowls down from the shelf and carried them to the table. “He went to the outhouse.” She laughed lightly. “And Rags followed.” She added napkins and spoons to each place. “That dog’ll probably follow your daddy right inside the cabin and sit here and beg during supper. It’ll be hard to break him of his begging if we aren’t consistent in leaving him in the shed when we eat.” She turned a hesitant look on Leo. “I know it’s frightful out there, but would you mind going and asking Mr. Ward to put Rags in the shed before he comes back in? You can tell him I’ll fetch the dog to the house myself after we’ve finished eating.”
Leo grinned. “I’ll be glad to.” He’d removed his hat already, but he settled it back in place and tightened the chin strap as he left.
Jennie washed her hands and sliced a loaf of bread. She stacked the slices on a plate, which she placed next to the pot of beans. “Should I pour water, or do you want me to make coffee?”
“Coffee,” Etta said with an emphatic nod. “It’ll take the chill off.”
Jennie set to work grinding beans and filling the percolator. She put the coffeepot on the stove to heat, then crossed to the table and sat. She sent a glance in the direction of the door. “Mama, shouldn’t Leo and Daddy be back already? It isn’t that far to the outhouse.”
Etta looked at the clock and gave a start. More time had passed than she’d realized since Claude left to visit the outhouse. She hurried to the door and swung it wide. A gust of wind, damp and cold, nearly drove her backward. But she stepped onto the stoop, cupped her hands, and yelled, “Claude? Leo?”
Pounding feet carried over the wind’s roar, and Leo rounded the corner. He panted up to her and flung his arms outward. “Mrs. Ward, I’ve looked everywhere. Mr. Ward and Rags…they’re gone!”
Jennie
Jennie stood so quickly she tipped the chair over. On trembling legs, she scrambled to Mama and grabbed hold of her arm. “Mama?” The single-word query quavered out, carried on a note of terror.
Mama shook Jennie’s hands loose and grabbed her coat and scarf from the peg on the wall. “You two stay here. I’m going to—”
Leo stepped forward and took her coat from her. “No, ma’am. You stay in case he comes back. I’ll look for him.”
“But you said you already looked everywhere around the cabin.” Mama’s tone rose, her eyes wide and fear filled. “That means he’s wandered farther off. You aren’t familiar with the ground around here. I am.”
Jennie had stood against the wall, hugging herself and listening, but suddenly she gasped. “Mama! I think I know where he went.” She scuttled to the row of pegs, grabbed Daddy’s rain poncho, and flung it over her head. “Stay here while I check. If I’m wrong, I’ll hurry back and…” She darted out the door without finishing her sentence. Mama called after her, but Jennie raced down the rise at a dangerous pace considering the large stinging raindrops now pelting her face and making the ground slippery. But she had to reach him. He was there. She knew he was there.
His sad voice echoed in her mind as she ran. “I need to walk the yard on my own. The way I used to walk the line. Back when I was a whole man. I can’t never be a whole man again unless I can walk it…on my own.”
As she neared the footbridge, she wished she’d taken time to grab a lantern. It was nearly as black as pitch, and she might miss the bridge completely and tumble into the river. At least the river couldn’t make her any wetter than she already was, she reasoned with a hint of humor. In all their years at the cabin, they’d never experienced a rain like this one.
The wind roared and turned the rain into a sideways curtain, slashing her with its furious power. But God’s power was stronger than anything, and she inwardly pleaded with Him for His strength to endure as she reached the footbridge and braced herself to clamber down the nature-carved ravine to the man-made pipeline, where she was sure she would find Daddy. The minute she found him, she would tell him he was wrong to want to walk the line on his own.
She slid down the bank, bumping her tailbone on rocks as she went. Then the soles of her boots met the bottom, nearly pitching her forward. She caught her balance and paused, gaining her bearings in the dark and noisy night. Fat raindrops sounded like drumbeats on the wooden surface of the pipe, adding percussion to the wind’s whistle. Pressed against the cold, wet bank, the river’s flow roaring in her ears, she screeched over the storm’s noise, “Daddy! Rags!”
Raucous barking exploded from somewhere on her left. She jerked in that direction and screamed their names again. If Daddy answered, she didn’t hear him, but Rags continued to bark and yip without pause. She inched toward the sound, blinking against the darkness and rainwater flowing down her face. She’d gone perhaps a dozen feet, bouncing her shoulder along the bank, when a bundle of white fur darted from the deep shadows and plowed against her knees.
With a cry of delight, Jennie scooped up the sodden pup. He licked her face, wriggled, and yipped in her ear with such exuberance he tugged her off-balance. She put him down so he wouldn’t knock her into the river. “Take me to Daddy, Rags,” she bellowed over the storm’s raging song.
The little dog bounded off in the direction he’d come, and Jennie followed, one hand scraping the ravine’s wall to keep herself on course. And she stumbled onto Daddy, huddled under the pipeline with Rags curled on his lap. Joy, relief, and gratitude exploded through her with such tumultuous force she couldn’t stay upright. She sank to her knees beside them. “Daddy…Daddy…” No other words would form.
She whipped off the poncho, snuggled in as close to Daddy as she could, and draped the poncho over him and Rags. Under the cover of thick rubber-coated cloth, she rested her head on Daddy’s shoulder and took several deep, calming breaths. When she could speak without gasping, she asked a simple question. “Why, Daddy?”
He tipped his head sideways and pressed his whisker-roughened chin to her temple. “I had to try. I had to know. It was raining the day I fell off the pipe, remember?”
Jennie nodded, her chest aching with the same intensity it had the day she and Mama found Daddy’s crumpled form beneath the pipe.
“I figured…if I could come out here now…maybe I could prove to myself…” A huge sigh heaved his chest. “I’m a fool, Jennie Hennie.”
He hadn’t called her Jennie Hennie, his childhood nickname for her, since he’d taken the fall. His using it now was a gift—a reminder that the daddy she’d loved as a little girl was still inside him, struggling to find his way out. She threw her arm across his chest and burrowed into the curve of his neck. She choked out, “You’re not a fool, Daddy. Not a fool at all. But you don’t have to walk the line or anywhere else all on your own. None of us can do what needs doing on our own. We all need God. He helps us. He’ll help you, Daddy, if you let Him.”
A shuddering breath vibrated Daddy’s chest. “You think He ain’t forgot about me?”
Jennie shook her head, swallowing tears. “I know He hasn’t. He loves you too much to forget you.” Something else occurred to her, and she said it before the thought escaped. “And Mama and I love you, too. We loved you before you got hurt, we love you now, and we’ll always love you, no matter what.”
Suddenly a thunderous roar exploded from the heavens, and something—a rock?—landed on Jennie’s shoulder. She yelped in surprise. Daddy slung his arm around her and pushed her facedown on the rocky bank. Somehow Rags got caught under her arm, and the pup squirmed, but she instinctively held tight. Then Daddy stretched out on top of her. He released little grunts of pain while the earsplitting onslaught seemed to go on and on forever. Jennie cried against the wet, cold pillow of rocks under her cheek and prayed for God to calm the storm and bestow His peace.
Then, when she’d feared it might never end, the steady beat of thuds slowed to sporadic single clunks. The fierce gusts of wind calmed. The steady, heavy patter of rain became a gentle drip-drip. And only then did Daddy roll off Jennie’s frame. She shifted to her knees, and her hands encountered ice-cold chunks. Although a drizzle still fell, the heaviest clouds had blown away. In the murky shadows, she saw a sea of chunks, some as large and round as the grapefruit that came by train at Christmastime, covering the bank. With her ears still ringing from the storm’s fury and her pulse racing, she couldn’t make sense of what the pieces were. She picked one up, and understanding dawned—they’d been through a hailstorm. And Daddy had shielded her from its assault.
Her shoulder ached from being struck by a single hailstone. What must Daddy have endured? She crawled to him and touched his face. “Daddy, are you hurt? Can you move?”
He groaned and struggled to sit up. “I…I don’t know.”
She caught hold of his shoulders and gently pressed him back down. “Stay here. I’ll get Leo and Mama. We’ll get you home.” She spread the rumpled poncho over him, then leaned down and touched her cheek to his in an awkward hug. She whispered through tears, “I love you, Daddy. I love you.”
His eyes slid closed. “I love you, too, Jennie Hennie.”
He didn’t need to say it. She already knew. He’d proved it.