searched for her voice which seemed to have been permanently silenced by her shock at the recent turn of events.
“Mrs. Goodloe and her people do not travel by motorized vehicle,” Levi explained. “Unless, of course, the situation is an unusual one.” His eyes met hers just before he entered the room off the foyer and closed the door.
The man called Hans seemed every bit as nonplussed as Hannah was. “I believe we have a bicycle,” he said. “Would that be all right?”
“Thank you, Mr. Hans, but I walked here and I can walk back.” Squaring her shoulders and forcing herself not to so much as glance at the closed door where Levi Harmon was, she marched to the open front door.
Hans scurried to open the iron gate for her. “It’s simply Hans, ma’am,” he said.
Hannah paused and looked at him. “You have no last name?”
“Winters,” he managed, “but…”
“Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Winters.”
“Mr. Harmon’s private car will be attached to the train leaving for Atlanta at 7:02 this evening, ma’am. You really only need to pack a single valise. Everything you may need will be provided. Mr. Harmon is extraordinarily good to his guests.” His voice was almost pleading for her to not think too badly of his employer.
“Thank you, Mr. Winters.” She shook his hand. “It was my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She started down the drive and, although she refused to look back, she was suddenly certain that Hans Winters was not the only one watching her go.
By the time she reached the edge of the celery fields with their cottages in the background, it was midafternoon. The five-mile walk had given her ample time to consider the possibilities before her—and to pray for guidance in choosing correctly.
Instead of stopping at her small bungalow, she went straight to her father-in-law’s bakery. As she had suspected, he was still there—as was his eldest daughter Pleasant, who had helped him run the business since the death of her mother. Hannah frowned. She had hoped to find Gunther Goodloe alone. Pleasant was the anti thesis of her name. A spinster, she seemed always to look on the dark side of any situation. Hannah could only imagine how she might react to the idea that Hannah needed to travel—by train—to find Caleb.
Hannah took a deep, steadying breath, closed her eyes for a moment to gather her wits, then opened the door to the bakery.
“We’re closed,” Pleasant barked without looking up from her sweeping.
“Hello, Pleasant. Is Gunther in the back?”
“Where else would he be?”
Hannah saw this for the rhetorical question it was and inched past her sister-in-law. Her father-in-law was a short and stocky man with a full gray beard that only highlighted his lack of hair. “Good day to you,” Hannah called out over the clang of pans that Gunther was scrubbing. She took a towel from a peg near the back door of the shop, and began drying one of the pans he’d left to drain on the sideboard.
“The boy took off, did he?”
Hannah nodded.
“Any idea where he went?”
“Yes.” She inhaled deeply and then told her father-in-law her suspicions.
“The circus? Well, he wouldn’t be the first.” He shook the water from his large hands and then wiped them on a towel that had once been a flour sack. “Do you want me to go down there and fetch him home?”
“You can’t. The circus company left before dawn.”
Gunther raised his bushy eyebrows but said nothing.
“I went to see Mr. Levi Harmon,” she admitted.
“Why would you do such a thing on your own, Hannah? Why wouldn’t you have come to me—or the bishop—right away and let us handle this?”
“Because Caleb is my son.”
“Nevertheless…”
“It’s done,” she interrupted, “and now we must decide what to do next.”
“What did Harmon have to say? He can’t have been any too pleased to have you accusing him of harboring a runaway.”
“I didn’t accuse him of anything. I simply asked for his help in bringing Caleb home. He leaves this evening and plans to meet up with the company tomorrow and travel the rest of the way back to Wisconsin with them.”
“So if Caleb is with the company, he’ll send him back?”
Hannah swallowed. “He’s agreed to look for Caleb.”
“And if he finds him?” Gunther looked at her with suspicion.
There was no use beating about the bush. She met his gaze. “He expects me to come with him and bring Caleb home myself.”
“You cannot travel alone, child.” The older man ran his hand over the length of his gray beard.
Hannah held her breath. He was not saying she shouldn’t go.
“I think this is a matter for the bishop to decide,” he said finally. He took down his hat from the peg by the side door. “Pleasant? Hannah and I will be back shortly.”
Pleasant cast one curious glance at Hannah and then returned to her sweeping. “I’ll be here,” she said.
They found Bishop Troyer at home and Hannah stood quietly by the front door while Gunther explained the situation. The two men discussed the matter in low tones that made it difficult for Hannah to hear. Twice the bishop glanced directly at her, shook his head and returned to the discussion. I should have simply agreed to go with him, she thought and then immediately prayed for forgiveness in even thinking such a thing. But this is my son—my only child and I…
“Hannah? The bishop would like a word with you.”
Her legs felt like wood as she crossed the room and took a seat on the hard straight-backed chair opposite Bishop Troyer. She folded her hands in her lap more to steady them than to appear pious and kept her eyes lowered, lest he see her fear.
“This is indeed an unusual circumstance, Mrs. Goodloe, but at the core of it all is the undeniable fact that a boy—one of our own—is missing. And although you may be right in surmising that he has run away with the circus, we must be sure.”
Hope tugged at her heart and she risked a glance at the kindly face of the bishop. His brow was furrowed but he was not frowning, just concentrating, she realized. He was trying to work out a solution that would serve the purpose of finding Caleb and bringing him home without going too far afield from the traditions that governed their community.
“It seems to me that Mr. Harmon’s offer is a kind and generous one.”
“Oh, he is a good man, Bishop, I’m certain of that,” Hannah blurted.
This time there was no mistaking the frown that crossed both the bishop’s face and her father-in-law’s. Gunther cleared his throat and when she glanced at him, he shook his head as if warning her to remain silent.
“I have given my permission for you to take this journey as long as your father-in-law and your sister-in-law, Pleasant, travel with you.”
Hannah’s heart fell. “But the bakery,” she whispered, knowing there was no one else Gunther would trust with his business.
“I have some time,” the bishop replied, “as well as some experience in managing a business. I have offered to watch over the store while you are away.”
She could hardly believe her ears. The bishop’s offer was beyond anything she might have imagined possible. She glanced at Gunther who had offered the bishop a handshake—a contract in their society as binding as any piece of paper.
“Well, child, we must go.