Forevermore (23 page)

“Then she’ll have plenty, won’t she, Jakob? Naomi made a mountain of clothes for the babies. They have to be around here somewhere.”

“No.” Jakob glared straight through his farmhand. “None of them remain.” In his grief, he’d gotten rid of all of Naomi’s clothing and all of the baby gowns and blankets. Having them there mocked him, drove home the fact that he’d never again have his beloved wife by his side, his namesake, or any more children. He shoved away from his half-eaten supper. “I have chores to see to.”

Hope drove to town on Wednesday to deliver the eggs and milk to the general store. With that chore accomplished, she turned Hattie down the road toward the Richardson farm. Emmy-Lou sprawled on the mule cart seat beside Hope. “I see a birdie.”

“It’s a hawk. If ’n you listen, you’ll find every bird talks different from all the other kinds. Hear that purdy song? That’s a lark. That hawk’s up in the sky a-screamin’ so’s he can scare a little mouse into running. Then he’ll swoop on down and catch that mouse for his supper.”

Hope stopped the cart at Forsaken Ranch just long enough to hand off some fabric to Annie. “Your brother asked me to get this for you to make baby clothes. Don’t forget that I’ll help you stitch ’em.”

As she helped serve lunch at the Richardsons’, Hope murmured to Jakob, “I got that cloth you wanted for your sis. Whilst I was in town, the mercantile man gave me this letter what come for you.”

Jakob accepted the envelope, took one glance at it, and shoved it in his pocket. “Fine.”

He looked anything but fine. Hope didn’t ask him why, though. He’d been in a foul mood ever since Sunday. The past few days, he’d grunted and growled instead of talked. It was a good thing they were in the middle of harvest, just so Annie wouldn’t have to be around him. As it was, she’d suddenly reverted to being timid—at least when her brother was around.

Well, no use letting his dark mood spoil the day. Hope picked up an empty bowl and headed back toward the Richardson kitchen.

Linette practically pounced on her when she entered the house. Dragging her toward the pantry, Linette squeaked, “We have to talk!”

“What’s a-wrong with us talkin’ in the kitchen?”

Cheeks flushed, Linette shook her head. “Papa asked if Phineas can stay over tonight. He’s good with machinery, and one of the reapers needs some sort of work!”

“He’s good with that sorta stuff.”

“I saw Phineas watching me today. Maybe he’s
the one
.” Linette pressed her hands to her bosom. “You have to tell me all about him!”

“I don’t wanna hurt your feelings none, but I gotta be dead honest with you. Phineas might be the one what fixes the reaper, but he ain’t a man set on romance. More likely, he was hungry and lookin’ at whatever you was totin’ out for lunch. That man shorely does like to eat.”

“But don’t you see? That’s all the better! I’m a good cook. I don’t want to sound haughty, but truly, I know my way around a kitchen. We’ll make such a good couple!”

Hope sighed.

“Mama says the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and she’s right—look at Marcella and Leo. What’s Phineas’s favorite dish? I’ll fix it for him!”

The pantry door whispered open.

Hope wheeled around, ready to escape from the awkward situation. Instead, Mrs. Richardson pressed in and leaned on the door to shut it. “Linette? Did you ask her?”

“She was just going to tell me, Mama.”

“Mrs. Richardson, ma’am, I was just tellin’ your daughter here that Phineas is a man what knows his own mind.”

A giddy laugh bubbled out of Mrs. Richardson.

This ain’t goin’ none too good.

“We’ll make sure Linette gives him exactly what he likes. So if he were a dying man, what would he want for his last meal?”

He might wish he was dead if ’n Linette chases after him
. Hope tamped down that uncharitable thought. “If ’n he was passin’ on, eatin’ probably wouldn’t be much on his mind. You gotta ’scuse me, but—”

“Oh, just a minute.” Linette grabbed her arm. “What does he like?”

“Whatever you was a-totin’s probably a safe guess.”

“Peach pie.” Linette’s hold on her arm tightened. “It was peach pie. Can I come home with you and pick some peaches?

Then I can bake Phineas—”

Hope let out a desperate laugh. “Bein’ out in the sun all day, I reckon all them men feel baked clear through.”

“Then nothing would be more refreshing . . .” Mrs. Richardson started.

“Than fresh peach pie!” Linette said exultantly.

“I need to get outta here. Gotta keep an eye on Emmy-Lou.”

The words had no more left her mouth than a child started crying.

“That’s my girl!” Desperate to get to Emmy-Lou, Hope wrestled out of the pantry and into the kitchen. Marcella was coming up the back steps, holding Emmy-Lou in her arms.

“What happened?”

“Miss Hope!” Emmy-Lou pushed away from Marcella, clung to Hope, and wailed.

“It’s her knee,” Marcella said in a stricken tone. “I let Lottie and Mandy hold her hands, so I thought it would be okay if she jumped rope.”

“Merciful heavens.”

“There were only jumping ‘Blue Bells.’ ” Marcella’s explanation sounded more like a plea for absolution.

Hope didn’t bother to reassure her at the moment. Right now, Emmy-Lou needed help. Hope twisted toward the sink, only to recall the Richardsons didn’t have a kitchen pump. They carried water in from the yard pump. She plopped down in a chair, cuddled Emmy-Lou, and ordered, “Somebody, get me a stack of nice, clean cloths and a bucket of water.”

Emmy-Lou nestled close and clung to her. “Owwwweeee!”

“Lemme have a look-see.” She flipped up the hem of Emmy-Lou’s dress and forced a laugh. “Goodness, Emmy-Lou, you got enough dirt on you to plant a whole row of ’tatoes.”

“Owwwiieee!”

“Owww. Owww. Ooowwooo!” Hope repeated the sounds again. Looking at her with huge eyes, Emmy-Lou gasped and panted.

“Wait a second here.” Hope pretended to be scandalized.

“Y’all start howlin’ like a coyote, and when I join in, you quiet down?”

“Emmy-Lou wasn’t being a coyote; she sounded more like a wolf to me.” Linda brought over a bucket of water.

“Onliest wolf I ever heard makin’ that kind of racket done it ’cuz a skunk sprayed him.” Hope accepted a clean cloth from someone and dipped it in the water. Emmy-Lou shuddered in her arms. “Lookee here, Emmy-Lou. Now that we got all the dirt off, it ain’t hardly nothin’. You got scared is all, didn’t you?”

Emmy-Lou bit her lip and doubled over to look.

“My knee is like yours.” Mandy hiked up her skirt to display a scab and tacked on, “Mine is bigger.”

While Hope dabbed witch hazel on the scrape, she listened to Emmy-Lou and Mandy assure Lottie that when she scraped her knee, she’d get to howl like a wolf too. An hour later, as they took their leave, Emmy-Lou hugged Lottie and again promised her someday she’d have a chance to howl. Hope smothered her smile and lifted Emmy-Lou into the mule cart.

She’d only been back on the Stauffer farm long enough to tuck Emmy-Lou in for a nap when Annie got home. “You oughtta go take a nap yourself, Annie.”

“Actually, I’d like to work outside for a while. I spent most of my time at Forsaken, rocking babies. If I don’t move around a bit, I won’t be able to fall asleep tonight.”

Hope steadied herself with a deep breath and confessed, “I oughtta tell you, your niece skinned her knee today.”

“Is she okay?”

“Other than a spot about yea big”—Hope pinched her forefinger to her thumb to form a dime-sized space—“on her little knee, she’s fine. I feel bad about it.”

“I would too.” A timid smile flickered across Annie’s face.

“But I’m glad she got to go play with her friends today. She doesn’t have many chances to be with them.”

“They all dote on her.”

Emmy-Lou took a longer-than-usual afternoon nap while Annie picked pole beans and Hope weeded. Annie paused a moment and straightened up.

“You okay?” Hope stared at her large belly. Velma said the baby could come anytime, but Hope thought it would be nice for the child to wait another week or two, though she figured Annie was hot and tired and wishin’ that babe would just come.

“I am . . .” Annie’s voice died out. Her hand went up to shade her eyes. “Why is my brother home so early?”

Hope rose and turned to see Jakob dismount.

He normally had a powerful, long stride—but the barnyard dirt kicked up in small puffs around his boots as he stormed toward them. Yanking off his straw work hat, he revealed a clenched jaw and flashing eyes. His jaw unhinged just long enough for him to bark, “Hope!”

“Yes?”

“Where’s my Emmy-Lou?”

“Takin’ her nap.” Hope dusted off her hands.

“She gets hurt so much that her friend tells me she howled like a wolf, and you don’t get me? You don’t even tell me?” He stopped glowering at her just long enough to cast a fleeting look at the upstairs bedroom window, then locked his focus on her again. “You were supposed to keep her safe.”

“She got a scraped knee—”

“And whose fault is that? You were to watch her.”

Hope tore her attention from him just long enough to take in how white Annie had gone. She fixed her gaze back on her boss and narrowed her eyes, then flashed a sideways glance at his sister.

He didn’t respond to her cue but kept right on. “Emmy-Lou and Annie—you are to watch them and do the cooking. If it is too much, say so and leave.”

Annie gasped.

“Don’t you worry none, Annie.” Hope pinched the inside elbow of her own sleeves and savagely yanked them to pull the cuffs higher. “Onliest place I aim to go is to the pump to wash my hands afore I take the linens off the line. Think you could go punch down the bread dough? I’d shorely appreciate it.”

Hope didn’t wait for an answer. She walked off.

A moment later, her hands dripping dry as she headed for the clothesline, she heard Mr. Stauffer’s distinctive step. Instead of pivoting toward him, she veered to the far side of the clothesline.

What is it about that man? Well, whatever it is, I won’t have to figure it out. He’s gettin’ rid of me
.

All too soon, he came around the sheets to stand mere feet away.

Plucking a clothespin from the first pillowcase, she hissed, “You go on and vent your spleen, but don’t you go bellowin’ at me. Your sis don’t need that.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

Hope cocked a brow.

“You gave your word to watch my daughter.” Fury vibrated in his words.

“All children get scrapes. I—”

“All
normal
children. Emmy-Lou—she can’t see.”

He’d already said she was leaving, so she might as well speak her piece. Hope yanked the pillowcase from the line. “She
can
see. Not as good as other kids, but Emmy-Lou can still see.

You’re the one who was moanin’ over how she can’t see and do all the things everybody else did. Best thing for her is to let her do as much as she can.” Hope stared at him, meeting his heated gaze with resolve. “She was playin’ with her friends and havin’ a good time. You can’t take that from her.”

“She—”

“Got a scraped knee, nothin’ more. When she wakes up, you can check her out for yourself. It ain’t even a big scrape. ’Tis hardly anything at all.” Three savage folds, and the pillowcase lay in the wicker basket at her feet. Hope reached for the next one.

“The day I got here, I told you I didn’t stay when the man of the house wanted different. That ain’t changed. I reckon I spouted off too quick tellin’ Annie that I wasn’t goin’ anywhere.”

“So just like that, you’ll leave?”

Thickheaded man!
Hope didn’t answer. She didn’t trust herself to answer. She grabbed one end of a sheet and lifted it over itself. By walking along the line, she managed to fold it in half before pulling it free.

“You made a pact. That was your word—a pact. To take care of Emmy-Lou and Annie. You would break your word?”

“I’m not breakin’ my word, and I don’t like you callin’ me a liar.” She turned to the side so the breeze would stop working against her. Though sorely tempted to turn a little more so she’d give him her back, Hope resisted the urge. He had a lot of nerve trying to toss her promises back at her when he was shoving her out the door.

“If you leave, you’ve broken your word.”

“Our pact was to work
together,
Mr. Stauffer. You’re the one what just told me to leave, and I will. But afore I do, I’m fixin’ to finish up with this here laundry and make shore supper’s ready to be put on the table. Just in case you didn’t notice, Annie’s more tireder than a wound-down clock.”

He made an odd sound.

Hope didn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at him. She’d worked hard for him and his kin. Even with him getting grouchy, he didn’t have grounds to accuse her of having slacked or been a sluggard—but he had. That was bad enough. But his implying that she’d neglected Emmy-Lou and Annie—that hurt worse.

Her work-chapped hands snagged on the delicately tatted edge of the next pillowcase. Of all things, the embroidery on it depicted a dove carrying an olive branch—the symbol for peace.
Now, there’s a joke
.

Mr. Stauffer heaved a deep tested-to-the-limits sigh.

Hope practically tore the pillowcase off the line. “You ain’t the onliest one round here who’s worried or hot or tired. I’d take it kindly if ’n you’d just keep your distance ’til I tell your sis and Emmy-Lou good-bye.”

Nineteen

G
rit. The grit embedded at the rim of his jagged nails dug into his palms, making him aware he’d fisted his hands.

Slowly, Jakob forced his fingers to unfurl. He didn’t budge, though.

He stared at Hope. Wild wisps of hair spun about her face and neck. Other than her green Sunday-best dress, she owned none other than the ugly brown one she now wore. Faded, limp, and damp, it bespoke a woman who’d labored hard and rested little, if at all. A fair breeze made the sheets puff.
She did all this laundry this morning, then took the milk and eggs to town before coming to the Smiths’ to help feed the men. She’s started bread and has supper planned and was weeding
.