Chapter 4  

Hannah’s head still hadn’t cleared when she was plunked down in the seedy little attic.

Pa couldn’t stop looking at overweight, stringy-haired Essie long enough to notice Hannah’s shock or Jeremy’s rage. Rosella Bindle, the short, stout, gray-haired woman who owned the diner and had employed Essie for years, was Hannah’s new landlady. Mrs. Bindle was no genius of a cook, her voice was loud, and she was given to shouting insults at the bachelor cowpokes she fed daily. But the cowpokes seemed to enjoy Mrs. Bindle’s chiding—or at least they pretended to, not wanting to give up their only source of food. And there was no real venom on Mrs. Bindle’s part.

She had a pleasant smile for Hannah.

“Welcome.” Mrs. Bindle spoke at a near shout, even though the room was tiny and all its occupants were utterly silent. The rumor was Mrs. Bindle was nearly deaf, but most people were too afraid of her to tell her it wasn’t necessary to cast her voice quite so wide.

“I’m glad to see you’re moving in.” Mrs. Bindle slung an arm around Hannah that knocked her forward. “I already miss Essie something fierce in the diner, and I liked knowing she was up here. I hate the idea of the diner being empty at night.”

Hannah had no idea what she meant by that. Was Hannah now supposed to guard the place and ward off invaders? That was probably fine. No one much wanted to invade Mrs. Bindle’s diner.

Trying one last time to get her pa to think about what he was doing, Hannah said, “Pa, the little ones need time to adjust to this. They already lost Ma. Shouldn’t we let them get used to the idea of—”

“They’ll see you every day at school,” Essie interrupted, smiling and patting her on the shoulder. “And a spinster lady needs to be on her own.”

Spinster. Well, that about described her.

“What we need,” Mrs. Bindle said, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Essie, “is to find you a husband. It ain’t right that a woman lives her life alone. Why, since my Benny died, I’ve been lonely as all get-out.”

“Time to get on home, Essie.” Pa held the door for his new bride, his glowering son, and the chipper landlady.

Mrs. Bindle said, “Yep, a man is just what you need. I’ll put my mind to it.”

Hannah was distracted from her shock at being tossed out of her home by the horror of imagining what kind of man Rosella Bindle might think was a good match.

Hannah had vowed long ago to only marry another believer. Yes, there were plenty of single men around, but she wouldn’t consider one who didn’t practice the faith, and that didn’t describe any of the raucous men who ate at Rosella’s diner.

As Essie left, she looked back and said, “A husband is just the thing for you. If you won’t see to it, maybe you’d better let Rosella and me scare up a man. Time’s a-wastin’, Hannah. It’s time to grow up.”

With that, pushing a recalcitrant Jeremy along in front of them, Pa, Essie, and Mrs. Bindle left Hannah in her attic room, closing the door firmly behind them.

Hannah sank into the threadbare chair Essie had so generously left behind, along with a small bed, a tiny potbellied stove, and a single plate, bowl, and cup—all tin—and one pan.

“Grow up?” Hannah said. “I’ve been mothering my little brothers and sisters since I was six. I’ve been running Pa’s house since long before Ma died. I’ve been a schoolmarm since I was seventeen. Grow up?” Her voice echoed in the nearly empty room.

She’d never been alone before. The urge to cry hit her, but she couldn’t manage a single tear. The shock ran too deep. She sat in the chair as darkness fell and, still dressed, stared into space, too stunned to move.

Hannah showed up at school out of pure habit. She’d undergone such a radical shift in her life, she was still trying to figure a way to straighten things out.

Jeremy came in with Abe. Essie kept Kevin at home. Of course. Three-year-olds didn’t go to school.

Anger etched on his face, Jeremy came up to Hannah and gave her a fierce hug. He pulled away and put strong hands firmly on her shoulders. Hannah realized she was looking straight into his eyes. Jeremy was as tall as she was. “We’re going to fix this. You’ll be home again before you know it.”

Hannah nodded and agreed with him because she wanted to lessen his anger. Then she held the still-silent Abe and told him not to be upset. It wouldn’t be long before she was back home. It sounded so good she believed it.

She got through the day by doing what had to be done for her students. But she felt none of her usual joy in teaching, nor even the usual daily aggravations. She was too numb.

After leaving school, she caught herself after just a few steps, walking home to Pa’s house. Her brothers always ran straight for home, so by the time Hannah got the school tidied and closed up, she always walked alone. It was not carrying Kevin that jarred her back to reality. She had to stop, close her eyes, and remember where in the world she lived.

Turning toward the diner, she forced her feet to carry her to that drab little room. When she passed the bank, the door slammed open and Marcus Whitfield stumbled out. Poor man. He was so awkward.

Pausing, he met her eyes for a split second. “Hello, Hannah.” He came out of the bank, closed the door, and walked up beside her. “I’m going for coffee.”

“I’m living above the diner now, did you hear?” Hannah found herself wanting to pour her heart out to Marcus . . . of all people. Better she should talk with her sisters, but they weren’t there.

“Yep.” Marcus said nothing else. He didn’t ask how she liked it there or what happened. He didn’t comment on Pa remarrying.

Hannah wondered exactly what form her pa and Essie’s courtship had taken. Had everyone in town known? Had it been going on long? Or had Pa decided yesterday to remarry, picked Essie out from the short list of unmarried women in town, and proposed over lunch, to be married after dessert?

Did Marcus know about this?

He took one step, and Hannah realized she was holding him up on his quest for coffee. He probably only got a short break.

She walked along beside him, aching with loneliness, but nothing about Marcus’s demeanor seemed to offer her an opening to talk.

When they arrived at the diner, he reached up, and Hannah thought he was going to tug on the brim of his hat to say good-bye without the chore of actually talking. Except his hat wasn’t there.

“Good-bye, Hannah.” Marcus went to turn the doorknob, but his hand slipped right off, like maybe his palm was sweaty. He quickly grabbed it again, nearly fighting his way into the diner.

Such an odd man. Good-hearted, but so strange. Hannah remembered her vow about marrying a believer, and Marcus was the only single man left in town who preferred church to the saloon. She should set her cap for him. She’d had such a thought when at Nelda’s wedding, noticing Marcus as he stood up for Rudy.

But did being a fine man mean he’d be a fine husband? Hannah suspected he’d never speak to her if they were married, and he certainly would never speak to her enough to ask her to marry him. Why, he’d never speak to her enough to ask her to join him for coffee!

Add to that, as his wife, she’d spend great stretches of time picking him up when he fell over his own two feet.

She went on to her room in the diner’s attic. When she got there, it was so dismal it wiped all thoughts of Marcus from her mind.