Based on a True Story

NOTE: Hannah's Heart is based on the true story of Marnie's great grandparents, Thaddeus and Maude Springfield. The names have been changed because fictional elements have been added to round out the story.

Hannah's Heart
By Marnie L. Pehrson
Publisher: Granite Publishing & Distribution
162 pages
Suggested Retail: $7.99
Hannah Jamison is ready to give her heart away. Unfortunately, the man she's falling for shows no indication of ever reciprocating her feelings. When Mother Nature intervenes in her behalf, all Hannah's dreams seem to be coming true . . . until she discovers that following her heart means losing the ones she loves. Is Hannah willing to pay the price? 

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Excerpt from Chapter 2

Ephraim tugged the rope with all his might, but the gray mule on the other end wouldn’t budge. It sat stubbornly on its hind quarters as if it planned to rest there until winter, and it was only June. He’d been attempting to remove the animal for nearly half an hour. Wrapping the rope around his gloved hands one more time, he threw his weight into it and leaned completely back, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath his rolled-up shirt sleeves. With Ephraim’s full weight slanted away from the animal, the stubborn mule finally decided to cooperate, and Ephraim’s boots scrambled beneath him. He fell hard on his rear end and a cloud of dust billowed around him.

Ephraim met the mule’s gaze with an angry glare. “Get that mockin’ twinkle oughta your eye, you good for nothin’ old biddy!” he grumbled as he rose to his feet and slapped his gloved hands against the seat of his pants.

Hannah Jamison peered out the store window observing the disgruntled farmer as he sauntered away from the livery stable, grumbling as he led the mule down the dusty road and periodically rubbing the smart from the seat of his denims. Hannah’s blue eyes twinkled merrily, and a soft giggle erupted from her full lips as she slipped a stray strand of golden blonde hair back behind her ear.

“Here’s the items your mother wanted, Miss Jamison,” the owner of the mercantile called to her from behind the store counter.

“Thank you, Mr. Gothard,” she approached the counter, took some money from her purse and handed it to the man who gave her a bulging gunny sack.

“That’s quite heavy. Would you like me to send Adam along with you to carry it home?” Mr. Gothard offered. His dark-haired wiry son appeared on cue from the back of the storeroom, put both hands to the sides of his head and slicked down his oily hair. It did little good, for as soon as he removed his palms, a cowlick sprung erect once more.

“I’d be happy to help you carry it home, Miss Jamison,” the young man agreed as he wiped the excess hair tonic onto the lapels of his suit.

“That’s quite all right. Thank you, but I can manage just fine,” the corners of Hannah’s lips turned up slightly, and she retreated for the door, carrying the heavy sack along with her. The weight of it surprised her as the sack tugged at her arms. She wasn’t able to mask the fact that it would be a chore to lug it a mile back to her home.

“See there, it’s just plum too heavy for ya, Miss Jamison. I’d be more’n happy to heft it for ya,” the young man offered again, this time putting out his hands to take the sack.

“Really, I can manage,” she shifted the bag cradling it in both arms.

“You sure?” Mr. Gothard questioned.

“I’m sure. Thank you very much for offering,” she smiled broadly and pretended that the load wasn’t too much for her. She left the establishment and turned right.

After continuing for a block or two, she craned her head around and peered back over her shoulder to confirm that Adam Gothard hadn’t followed her. He gave her the willies and made shopping at the mercantile a thing of little enjoyment. She continued to walk forward with her head turned back to the mercantile.

“Umph,” grunted the tall, solid mass she ran into. “Watch where you’re goin’!”

Startled, Hannah lost control of the sack and it slipped from her hands onto the ground. As she bent down to pick it up, the man lost control of his fifty-pound feed sack and it slipped from his hands onto his foot.

“Dad blammit!” he exclaimed as he kicked the sack off his foot and rubbed at his boot, holding it melodramatically. Hannah half expected him to pull off his shoe right there in the middle of the sidewalk and start massaging his wounded toes.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Hannah offered apologetically as she hurriedly squatted down to pick up her sack and then gazed into the emerald flecks of his striking hazel eyes. Recognizing who she’d run into she stammered, “Mr. Marston, I didn’t mean to ....”

“Miss Hannah,” his face flushed a little as the irritation drained from it.  “Uh – I’m sorry. I should’ve been watchin’ where I was going’.”

“No, sir, it’s my fault.”

Ephraim helped her rise to her feet.

“I was looking back over my shoulder toward the mercantile to make sure Adam Gothard . . .” Hannah paused, figuring she didn’t need to discuss Adam Gothard with Mr. Marston. “Well, anyway, I should’ve been watchin’ where I was going.”

He brushed his tousled, sandy-blonde hair to the side and his face looked irritated again. “Looking back at the mercantile, were you?” he snipped irritably.

“Yes, he uh . . .” she began, but he cut her off.

“Well, I best be on my way,” Ephraim frowned, lifted his sack and flung it over his mule’s back. With jerking movements he angrily strapped the sack in place and started on his way, grumbling something unintelligible as he went.

“Humph,” Hannah huffed. That man’s even ornerier than that mule of his. And to think I almost felt sorry for him! She could hardly believe he was the same man who’d tended their family during last winter’s influenza. She had been so ill she couldn’t remember him being there, but she’d been told that he’d taken care of the three of them while her father was away. One minute the man could do the kindest things and the next he could be a grumpy old bear – especially around her.

If she hadn’t been carrying such a heavy load, Hannah would have taken the long way home which wouldn’t have required her following Ephraim Marston and his mule. But since she figured she’d do well to get it home at all, she was forced to trail him while putting as much distance as possible between her and the ornery man.

Hannah found herself chuckling occasionally as he wiggled his sore foot and rubbed at the seat of his pants. Then she’d force herself to shift her eyes elsewhere – onto the wildflowers growing alongside the road, the fluffy clouds in the clear sky, or the cows grazing in the lush green pastures. Then again, her eyes would magnetically fall to the seat of Ephraim’s dusty denims. The man could fill out a pair of jeans quite nicely, and much to Hannah’s chagrin she felt that odd twinge of attraction.

Why she found him fascinating was beyond her comprehension. Sure his unusual eyes set against his thick sandy hair gave him an irresistible boyish quality in contrast to his manly physique. The combination would turn any girl’s head – at least any girl who found rugged manliness with a twist of boyishness attractive. But all of that had to be laid aside when a young woman with an ounce of brains in her head weighed it against his constant cantankerous temperament. But even Hannah had to admit he wasn’t irritable with everyone.

As a matter of fact, he could be quite congenial in the mercantile or the feed store or even when haggling for the best price for his butter and eggs. It was primarily Hannah who put him out of sorts. She knew he perceived her as a childish klutz always getting in his way. There was the time she let his bull out of the pen by accident. She had gone after her stray kitten by opening his fence instead of climbing over it. Ephraim spent three hours tracking down the animal before finally mustering it back to its corral. Then there was the fall social last year. That was an evening she’d never forget! She tripped and spilled punch all over Ephraim and Rachel Merryweather. Everyone knew that Ephraim was sweet on Rachel, but after that incident, nothing materialized between the couple. Hannah knew that Ephraim blamed her for his loss. He’d been grumpier toward her ever since.

After nearly a half a mile, the load grew too heavy for Hannah, and she decided to put it down and rest for a spell. Noting a fallen log on the side of the road, she set the sack on the ground and rested under the shade of a willow. It felt heavenly to relieve her aching muscles. She closed her eyes and leaned her head on her hands with her elbows on her knees, enjoying the gentle breeze that gave relief against the summer sun. She could feel the perspiration on her brow, so she opened her eyes to retrieve her handkerchief from her pocket. Instead of the road and pasture before her, she looked straight into Ephraim Marston’s denim covered legs.

Hannah’s eyes trailed up the man’s body to his broad chest. One of his thumbs hung loosely on his suspender strap; his hand curled and rested against his white shirt. She could hear the scuffling of his boots shifting in the dusty red clay. He pushed his rolled shirtsleeve back above his elbow and lengthened an arm toward her. Hannah felt a little flutter in her stomach at the sight of his arm that had turned golden brown working hard in the summer sun. Her lips curled into a subtle smile as she noted the boyish way his second suspender strap hung limp at his thigh.

 “Gimme that bag, girl,” his fingers wiggled and his hand opened and closed, indicating that she should relinquish her parcel to his care.

Timidly, Hannah’s eyes lifted to his face, apprehensive as to whether she’d find friendliness or fury in his eyes. When she saw the softened expression of his features and the golden and emerald flecks in his eyes she knew she wouldn’t be scolded at that particular moment.

“That’s too heavy for you. Annabelle’s got some room on her back yet.” She looked to her right and noted Ephraim’s mule making her way toward them, ambling down the road as if she were simply his friend joining him for a stroll. When Hannah didn’t respond, Ephraim leaned over and picked up the sack, carried it toward Annabelle and strapped it atop the mule. Without rising from her place on the log, Hannah watched his arms work to affix the load. He turned, approached her and extended his hand to help her up.

One minute he infuriated her and the next her palms had gone to perspiring and every coherent thought had escaped her mind. All she could do was stare at him.

He shook his palm, “Come along, I ain’t gonna bite cha.”

She discreetly clutched at the folds of her skirt to dry her palms before slowly slipping her hand into his. In the brief moment it took for her to rise to her feet, a picture flashed into Hannah’s mind of the two of them walking together through his pasture on a spring afternoon. The image made her pulse quicken and her face feel warmer than it already did.

He dropped her hand, and they walked side-by-side with Annabelle trailing behind. Neither had said a word for a couple of minutes when Hannah finally broke the nervous silence.

“Thank you for your help,” she glanced up at him. There weren’t too many men in town that she had to look up to since Hannah was a tall girl, nearly five-foot-eight inches, but Ephraim was a head taller than her.

“You’re welcome,” he nodded with his eyes still facing forward.

There was a long pause then Ephraim took a deep breath, “Sorry I got all grumpy back there.”

“It was my fault; I was looking back toward the mercantile.”

“Interested in Mr. Gothard’s boy – are ya?” Ephraim’s lips straightened into a thin line.

 “Where in the world did you get such a notion?” Hannah retorted rolling her eyes.

“So you ain’t denyin’ it then?”

“Pardon me?” Hannah stopped and thrust her hands to her hips.

He went a step further and then turned to face her. “You didn’t deny it. You just want to know where I heard it.”

“Arrgggh, you are the most infuriating man!” Hannah huffed and then made to briskly sidestep around him. Just as she would have passed him, he stretched his arm out and caught her, bringing her to a halt.

“So it’s true. You fancy Adam,” his eyes grew more serious as they caught hers.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hannah rolled her eyes in disgust. “He gives me the shivers.”

Ephraim stepped closer to Hannah so that her eyes were only a few inches from his chest. He stood so close she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze, and she could smell the scent of witch hazel on his skin. His voice grew deep, even a bit provocative as his eyes fell to her lips, “Would those be bad shivers or good shivers?”

Hannah swallowed the excess moisture which had suddenly formed in her mouth. “He repulses me,” she whispered as her gaze descended to the toothpick between Ephraim’s lips.

“I guess I was misinformed then,” he turned away from her and started down the road. Hannah took a moment to control the mad beating of her heart and then hurried to catch up with him.

“Who told you such a thing?” she asked as she fell into stride with him.

“His pa said you were sweet on Adam and well, after today, I thought maybe you were.”

“No, I can assure you that I am not sweet on Adam Gothard,” Hannah grimaced as if she’d just taken a bite of a sour lemon.  

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Copyright 2008, Marnie L. Pehrson. All Rights Reserved.