Dry Creek Daddy. Janet Tronstad

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      “Of course the boy’s sick,” her father muttered flatly. “What do you expect?”

      It took Hannah a minute to realize what her father meant. “What are you saying? That it’s my fault Jeremy’s sick? Because I wasn’t married?”

      She knew how the old man thought. He didn’t answer.

      Hannah turned to Mark. “Let’s go. He can stay here for all I care.”

      Her father’s attitude reminded her of why she’d felt she needed to sneak away from his house. No one at the home for unwed mothers was even pretending to be part of her family. And that meant they didn’t feel they had the right to condemn her, either.

      She started walking to the door when she heard Mark speak.

      “I’ll run the combine,” he announced quietly.

      Hannah went back into the room.

      “You?” her father sounded even more agitated as he stared at Mark. “Why, I can’t let a Nelson—”

      Hannah stared at the man who had been the only father she’d ever known. She wasn’t the only one he disliked. He wouldn’t ask for help from anyone. He’d locked eyes with Mark and was starting to sit up as though that would prove something.

      “You need to get that wheat in a granary soon or you won’t have a crop at all,” Mark said, his voice not rising. “You should have let me help you last week when I offered.”

      “You already said you’d help him?” Hannah squeaked, staring at Mark. She could not believe this.

      He nodded. “And got cussed out for the effort.”

      Hannah glanced over to her father and saw him looking sheepish.

      “You refused to let him help you?” she asked. “Why?”

      Her father might not ask for assistance, but she hadn’t expected he would turn it down.

      “I don’t need him to do anything.” Then, looking belligerent, her father added, “And don’t think I’m going to pay overtime for any twelve-hour days.”

      “It’ll be more like sixteen-hour days since you let it go so late, and I’ll not be charging you a penny, you old fool,” Mark said. “You treat Hannah better and don’t say a bad word about Jeremy and we’ll consider ourselves even.”

      Hannah smiled slightly. Her father glowered at everyone, but he kept his mouth shut. He was apparently willing to accept help when it was free.

      “You’ll keep him quiet and resting?” the nurse asked Hannah. “For at least a full day?”

      She nodded.

      “I’ll get the doctor, then,” the nurse said. “It’ll take a few minutes to get him ready to leave.”

      “My pickup is busted up, too,” her father mumbled as the nurse left the room.

      “I’ve got mine outside,” Mark said. “Do we need to call a tow truck for yours?”

      Hannah’s father shook his head. “The repair shop has it. I’ll come back and get it next week. In the meantime, we need to take this back with us.”

      He pointed to a small cardboard box with a stock number on top of it that was lying at the foot of his bed. “For the combine.”

      Mark nodded. “That’s the part you need?”

      “Yes,” the older man said. “I made the ambulance guys get it for me before I agreed to go with them.”

      Mark bent over and picked up the box.

      “You were right, then,” Hannah said to Mark as they exited the room. Together they walked back down the hall. The nurse was planning to bring Hannah’s father to the left entrance when he was ready.

      “I’m sorry he’s so rude,” Hannah said. “Hopefully he’ll only need you for a day or two.”

      Mark looked over. “You’re not responsible for your father.”

      “Maybe not,” Hannah said. “But someone needs to apologize for him. He’s gotten worse. I had no idea.”

      “He misses you,” Mark said.

      “I doubt that,” Hannah muttered.

      She reminded herself that she needed to stay in Dry Creek for only a few months. By then—please, God, she mouthed—Jeremy would be well again, at least if the doctor had an opening and could perform that new stem cell treatment she’d heard about. He’d already done it for others and had wonderful results.

      “I’ll pray with you, if you tell me what’s troubling you,” Mark said.

      “Oh.” Hannah hadn’t realized he was listening that closely. Her words had been little more than two short whispered breaths. She didn’t want to confess to her troubles, though. Not until she knew if she could trust him.

      Finally Hannah nodded. “I didn’t know you pray.”

      They had both been in Mrs. Hargrove’s Sunday school class for years, so they knew their Bible stories. But by high school, neither one of them was taking God very seriously.

      “You certainly didn’t pray back then,” she added.

      Mark shrugged. “Things change.”

      She had no answer to that; it was obvious.

      “We’ll be back at your dad’s place soon,” Mark finally added.

      “He won’t sit quiet,” Hannah warned. “You’ll wonder why you ever agreed to help him.”

      “I’m not helping him,” Mark said as he looked over at her. “I’m doing it for you and Jeremy.”

      Hannah felt the panic inside. “I don’t need any charity.”

      Mark grunted. “Never said you did.”

      Hannah almost shook herself. Part of keeping her guard up was to do it so quietly that no one noticed. Mark would be watching her if he thought she was trying to avoid reasonable help.

      “I can ask for assistance if I need it,” she assured him.

      “Of course.” Mark smiled as he reached for the door.

      Hannah let him open it and didn’t say anything. This whole exchange was making her wonder if she could bring herself to ask for help in a crisis. She never would ask for herself, but she would have to ask for Jeremy if he was as sick as he might be. She’d know more after the upcoming doctor’s appointment. For now, she had no choice but to accept Mark’s help, even if it meant she put her heart at risk. She didn’t know how she was going to cope with seeing him every day until her father’s wheat was harvested.

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