Forevermore (18 page)

After lunch, it wasn’t until he reached the Smiths’ farm that Jakob realized he and Annie had left Emmy-Lou in Hope’s care. Oddly, that didn’t trouble him in the least. Hope was capable and loving. His daughter would be perfectly safe in her care.
Just as she charmed Emmy-Lou out of her fear of the dark, she’s given me peace of mind about my daughter. Surely the Lord sent Hope my way
.

In the quiet that followed the noon meal, a passel of children sat on the parlor carpet, heads tilted upward like baby chicks waiting for food. Katherine Richardson sat in a chair with a storybook. “The name of this story is
Cinderella.”

“And it’s my brand-new book,” her little sister Lottie boasted.

“I can’t see,” Emmy-Lou complained. Jakob’s daughter normally had a sweet temperament, but she’d been a mite cranky today.

While Mrs. Richardson, Lena, and Gramma chattered about what flowers made the prettiest bridal bouquets, Hope set aside the platter she’d finished drying and stepped over to the edge of the parlor.

Emmy-Lou bumped shoulders with Mandy. “Move over.” Even as Mandy scooched to the side, Emmy-Lou rubbed her eyes and whined again, “I can’t see.”

Without Annie here, it fell to Hope to handle Jakob’s daughter. “It’s your naptime.”

“But I want to see the pictures and hear the story.”

This was the first time Emmy-Lou had been quarrelsome instead of obedient. Hope gave the little girl a stern look.

Emmy-Lou responded by poking out her lower lip in a pout.

“It’s not a very long story,” Lottie Richardson said. She wiggled closer to Emmy-Lou.

“We need to go home.” Mrs. Richardson motioned to her daughters.

“Me too.” Lena folded a damp dish towel and set it on the counter.

“All y’all have been so kind and helpful. Annie and Mr. Stauffer and me—we appreciate all you done. In the comin’ days, you can be shore I’ll work every bit as hard at your places.”

“We’ll see you at church tomorrow.” Mrs. Richardson claimed her cake plate from the array of dishes on the table.

Emmy-Lou let out an excited squeal and gave Lottie a hug. “Miss Hope, she says I can read her book today and bring it back to her at church!”

“Ain’t that sweet?”

Prompted by the necessity of all of the regular chores waiting at home as well as the extra ones women did on Saturday so Sunday would be the day of rest, everyone left. Hope tucked Emmy-Lou into bed for her nap, then surveyed the downstairs. Doing just as she’d said, Gramma had marshaled all of the school-age children into doing all sorts of tasks. With the eggs gathered, chickens fed, vegetables picked, the garden both weeded and watered, butter churned, and the porches swept, Hope took a moment to drink the rest of her glass of sweet tea.

The book captured her attention. She’d never seen such a thing. Shaped like an arched stained-glass window, the book opened from the middle toward both sides. The colored artwork made it look as if the center portion was a stage in some fancy theater, and the black-and-white pictures on the side pages depicted the audience watching the play from fancy balcony seats.
Cinderella.
Hope knew the fairy tale, so she carefully turned the pages and enjoyed the story—even if the words all jumbled into indecipherable rows of circles and sticks and bumps. When Annie got home and Emmy-Lou woke up, they’d all sit together, and Annie could read to them.

In the meantime, Hope took some of the day’s milking and set it to boil. It took little time to add vinegar, then line the colander with cheesecloth. The resulting ricotta cheese would be refreshing for lunch tomorrow. She made a second batch, but after straining it, she tightened the cloth to push out more whey, then compressed the still-hot ricotta between two plates to force out the moisture. Farm cheese—she remembered her mother making it and spreading it on bread or crumbling it on salads and vegetables.

Carrying a lumpy flour sack, Annie returned from minding the babies over at Forsaken Ranch. She emptied it on the table. “You wouldn’t believe it. Sydney’s sewing machine is a marvel. Just look!”

Hope picked up a soft flannel blanket. “Mercy’s sake, these stitches are small and tight and even. How long did it take you to hem?”

“I made four of them in fifteen minutes!”

Gawking at the other three on the table, Hope said, “I didn’t notice you’d hemmed ’em all. What, with all the babies you was watchin’, gettin’ one blanket done was all I expected. We’ll have to cut some diapers and a few more blankets so you can get a bunch done next week.”

Dropping both her gaze and her voice, Annie confessed, “I’ve made very little for the baby. It was foolish of me.”

“I sorta reckoned you’d borrow whatever Emmy-Lou used when she was born. Them things gotta be round here somewhere.”

Annie nodded, but she still didn’t meet Hope’s eyes. “A good mother should make things for her own child.”

“You’ve been busy, bringin’ in the harvest. Besides, you still have a coupla weeks.”

Toying with another of the little blankets, Annie murmured, “Velma says babies come whenever they please, even if the mother’s not ready.”

“If your babe takes a mind to come before everything’s prepared, it wouldn’t be a problem. Hot as it is, if all he has on is a diaper, it’ll be plenty.” Hope pretended not to see the worry in Annie’s half-shielded features and pretended to study the edge of the blanket. “I’m thinkin’, what if we was to cut out a mess of gowns? You could use Sydney’s machine to whip up the side seams and hems, and in the evenings, you and me—we could pop sleeves on ’em.”

Annie finally looked at her. Several emotions shimmered in her eyes. “You’d help me?”

“Just you try to stop me.” Hope set aside the blanket and patted Annie’s arm. “You and me together can fix up plenty in no time at all.”

“Especially if I do what you said—get the gowns started so we just add the sleeves.” Annie’s shoulders finally eased down into a relaxed posture.

“Bitty as baby gowns are, it wouldn’t take but a few minutes to tat or crochet a purdy edge on some of ’em.”

“You should see the beautiful gowns Sydney made. She put in lace insets and has rows of pin tucks and ribbons. With the machine, she said it didn’t take much time at all.”

“I wouldn’t mind none if you stayed a few hours extra to sew after the mamas pick up their young’uns. Truth is, with the harvest done here, things oughtta settle down.”

A self-conscious look stole across Annie’s face. “I’m not sure. Taking care of that many babies left me—”

“You poor gal! Neither of us is gonna say another word. Y’all just go on upstairs and have a lay-down.” Annie opened her mouth, and Hope shook her finger. “Ahh-ahh-ahh. No talkin’.”

As Annie started toward the stairs, Hope said, “That’s more like it.”

“You talked,” Annie whispered.

“So did you, just now. We’re even, so you go rest.” Deciding to add the hambone to the beans she planned to serve for supper, Hope headed out to the springhouse. It would still be a few hours before Jakob and Phineas returned home from the Smiths’. They’d reap until the last rays of sunlight died from the sky.

When she returned, she spied Emmy-Lou lying on her tummy on the parlor rug, engrossed in the book. Emmy-Lou drew back in order to open the pages to the next theater scene, then dipped her head again to study the picture. Her cheeks were still sleep flushed, and her curls looked as if someone had stirred them with a fork until they formed a froth.

“Sugar pie, if ’n you get any closer to the pages, one of Cinderella’s mice might run up your nose.”

“I don’t see no mice.”

Setting aside the hambone, Hope went to the parlor. She sat down next to Emmy-Lou. “I looked at the book and saw lots of mice. What ’bout this’un here? He’s fixin’ to—”

“Where?”

Cold terror streaked through Hope as she pushed several wisps of hair from the little girl’s forehead.
Lord Jesus, don’t let it be what I’m a-thinkin’.

Fifteen

J
akob spied his house ahead and waited for the pain to hit. The place hadn’t felt like home since the day Naomi died. Only the grief didn’t come this time. Instead, the warm glow of a lamp near the window beckoned him home. For the first time, he wanted to urge Josephine into a trot to take him there more quickly—but he didn’t. Only a fool would push a horse to do more than walk at night.

Phineas rode alongside him. “I hope we didn’t pass up supper at the Smiths’ only to go without. Don’t suppose Hope thought she’d have to fix a meal, not with us staying so late.”

Shrugging, Jakob said, “There’ll be enough leftovers to tide us through.”

“The way the men gobbled up everything in sight, I’d be surprised if there’s a bite left.” Phineas took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Good thing we all ate such a hearty lunch.”

“Ja.” Neither of them mentioned the skimpy sandwiches “Gramma” served them late in the afternoon. She’d served them the best she could. Everyone knew the Smith larder was low. Because of that, the men proclaimed supper would be waiting back at their own homes.

Phineas chuckled softly. “Did you see Leopold’s face when you told Gramma not to feed us supper?”

“No,” Jakob said wryly, “but I heard him ask Richardson if Marcella was cooking tonight.”

“For Marcella’s sake, I hope she’s as good a cook as Sydney Creighton claims.”

Jakob guided his mount to the side a little to avoid a gopher hole. “Mrs. Creighton was a godsend—not just for Big Tim, but for Richardson’s daughters. I don’t know what she’s been teaching them, but it’s obviously working. Who would have thought one of his daughters would catch a beau, let alone two of them?”

“Whoa!” Phineas stopped dead in his tracks. “You? You want Marcella, too?”

“Nein!” Jakob halted his mount and gaped at Phineas. “What gave you that cockeyed notion?”

“You said Marcella had caught two beaux.”

Emphatically shaking his head, Jakob hurried to correct his hired hand’s misconception. “I meant two of the daughters had each caught her own beau.”

“Phew.” Phineas jostled the reins to start back into motion. “You had me scared there.”

“I don’t figure I’ll marry again. There was only woman for me.”

Silence hovered between them as the shadows deepened. For a moment, the light ahead of them went out, then shone again. Phineas cleared his throat. “Konrad—does he know? About the baby?”

“No.”

“So.” Phineas said the single syllable only as a German male could—with finality. It carried no question, no challenge—only acknowledgment.

“Annie’s staying here. Forever.” As far as Jakob was concerned, all that needed to be said was said. He continued to stare straight ahead at the beacon shining from the dining room window.

“I saw the bruises, and the fear in her eyes. . . .” Phineas let out a tortured sound. “The day you brought her home, I saw her.”

They’d never spoken of it. Such a matter was intensely private. Surprised that his hired hand broached the subject now, Jakob remained silent.

Phineas drew in a deep breath. His voice shook. “When Annie was a girl, I held a special place in my heart for her. Now she is another man’s wife—but I would lay down my life before I let Konrad take her back.”

It was not a boastful proclamation; it was a promise of protection. Jakob appreciated the vow, but he also owed it to Phineas to reassure him the matter was settled.

“He can’t take her back. I still own the family farm. I allow him to use the land and keep the profit, but only so long as he stays away from Annie.”

“Annie is worth more than the land, but Konrad—he is a greedy man, Jakob. The time will come when he won’t be satisfied.” When Jakob made no reply, Phineas growled, “He’s already wanting more, isn’t he?”

“The harvest—it was good. I can pay him a little once I sell the wheat.” Until then, Jakob would barely eke by. Clark at the mercantile and Vaughn at the feedstore would extend him credit, but he’d managed to remain debt-free until now. Phineas was right, though. Konrad’s greed had already surfaced and strained matters.

“Pay him; don’t pay me.”

Jakob shot him a startled look. “It shouldn’t come to that.

The laborer is worthy of his hire. You—”

“I have food in my belly, a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. What kind of man would I be, what kind of friend or Christian brother, if I took money I don’t need and put a woman in jeopardy?”

“Annie is here. Safe.”

“But for how long?” Phineas halted his horse. “Konrad will push for more. Use my pay to help buy your sister’s freedom.”

“It shouldn’t come to that. I’ve been careful.” Jakob jostled the reins to make his horse move forward again. They rode in complete silence until reaching the barnyard. Jakob ordered in an undertone, “We’re done—understand?”

The moon cast a bluish tone over the earth, leaving half of Phineas’s face in shadow. The other half showed icy resolve as the hired hand curtly nodded once.

Hope sat out on the front porch in a wicker chair, crocheting. Beyond a shadow of doubt, Jakob knew this was the first time in days she’d rested. Her everyday dress looked like a damp brown dishcloth, and a plethora of tiny curls sprung free from her coiled braid. A lamp next to her illuminated them into a nimbus. It reminded him of the dandelion she’d held up to the first rays of sunlight and gently blown upon.

Imbedded in that memory was the understanding that once Annie had the baby and was back on her feet, Hope would leave. The thought hit hard—harder than it ought. Maybe it was because under Hope’s tender care, his sister seemed less timid, less frightened. Hope built up his sister with honest praise. This morning, she’d come running when he called and protected his sister with her own unique brand of humor and bossiness.

The same hand that shook a ladle at him this morning now wielded a tiny steel hook and a filament of the stringy stuff women used to crochet. A delicate, lacy little pair of rows didn’t give a hint as to what she’d started to make. She didn’t pause working, but jutted her chin to their left. “Saw you men a-comin’. Wash bucket’s yonder. Annie’s takin’ her Saturday bath, so I reckoned you’d appreciate a quick cool down to spruce up ’til you get your turn and before you eat.” Her voice didn’t carry its usual lilt of happiness, but tired as she was, that seemed understandable.