Forevermore (30 page)

What now? She tried to hide her exasperation. Didn’t he know she was busy? A few quick steps took her to the door.

“What?”

“Mama, she was lively—in many ways, you are much like she was.”

His words took her completely off-guard. Hope blinked in surprise. “Y’all couldn’t have said nothin’ more nicer than that.

Judgin’ from the son and daughter she reared, I’d say your mama was quite a woman.”

Jakob’s praise stuck in her mind the rest of the afternoon. She’d already wanted everything to be perfect when she left, but now Hope wanted to do even more. Crazily, though, she felt as if everything took longer and more effort than it ought to.

Annie needed to nurse the baby, so Hope boiled the cheese buttons. As she strained the last ones from the pot, Jakob and Phineas came in. They washed up while Emmy-Lou chattered at them. Jakob took the bowl from Hope. In a low tone, he said, “I need to speak with you later.”

She gave him a quizzical look, then realization nearly made her sway from the blow.
He’s fixin’ to send me away
.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday. Don’t cook at all. It’s too hot to fire up the stove.”

“I needed the iron, anyhow.” Her voice sounded funny. Strained. She went to the icebox as much to get away and hide her feelings as to grab Emmy-Lou’s milk. The blast of cold felt heavenly. As Hope straightened up, the kitchen whirled.

“Hope?” Annie sounded far away.

Staying still for a moment so she’d regain her balance, Hope managed to respond, “Hmmm?” Instead of feeling stable, Hope couldn’t quite figure out why the floor kept tilting.
I forgot to get out the milk. What’s a-wrong with me?

“Hope!” Jakob appeared before her. His hands shot out and clasped about her arms. As long as she stared at the uppermost button on his blue work shirt, the whirling sensation ceased—but he didn’t have the courtesy to stand still and leave the button in clear view. Instead, he dipped his head and frowned at her. “Are you all right?”

Giving him a perplexed look, she said, “I guess I got me a headache.” He let go of her left arm, and she sagged a little at the loss of his support.

Pressing his hand to her forehead, Jakob rasped, “You’re hot!”

Hope tried unsuccessfully to bat his hand away. “ ’Course I am.” He’d just said something about the stove being hot, hadn’t he? Maybe if she ate something, she wouldn’t feel quite so weak. “Dinner’s gettin’ cold.”

“Phineas.” Off to Jakob’s left, Annie shoved her baby into the farmhand’s arms.

That didn’t look right. Hope couldn’t figure out why. The way her head was pounding, she couldn’t hold a thought. She closed her eyes for just a second, but when she started falling, she couldn’t peel them open. Strong arms wrapped around her, lifted her. From a long way off, she heard Jakob. He sounded upset. “Lord, no. Please, God, no.”

Twenty-Three

M
y Marcella, she bakes the best prune cake you ever tasted.” Leopold Volkner pushed away from the table and rubbed his stomach. “Ja, Konrad. Just wait ’til next year when I’m married. Come harvesttime, you’ll see what a fine cook she is.”

Konrad plastered on a smile. Ague had hit with a vengeance. With the fields ripe for harvest and so many men sick, he couldn’t do without every last pair of capable hands—which meant he had to feign interest when Volkner boasted endlessly about his fiancée. At least once a day, Volkner pulled out a picture and showed it off like Marcella was a ravishing beauty instead of a fat cow.

Someone said, “It sounds like you found yourself a fine girl. When will you marry?”

“If I had my way, tomorrow.”

“Now, Leo.” Volkner’s mother patted his cheek. “Until the reaping and threshing are all done, you wouldn’t have time for a new bride.”

“Ja.” Konrad raised his voice. “We need to get back to work.” He’d already done his fair share of labor at his neighbors’. Back when old man Stauffer was alive, this place had always been the second or third in order to be reaped; regardless of Konrad’s maneuvers, his farm was now the last. It rankled him.

Men rose from the tables, but Ben Luft remained seated. He’d slacked all day, even though they were all working shorthanded.
I knew this would happen. I worked hard at his place. He’s always been lazy, and now that his fields are done—

“Ben?” Luft’s brother jostled his shoulder.

Ben propped his elbows on either side of his still-full plate and buried his head in his hands. “I tried. I tried, but—”

“He’s sick!” Mrs. Volkner backed off. “Take him home.”

Facing the loss of two workers, Konrad reacted at once. “He can go lie down. The heat—it’s bad today. Rest and water will revive him.”

Ben’s brother stood him up, braced him, and kneed the bench out of the way. “
Nein.
His wife and children are all sick. I’ll get him home.”

“That would be best.” Leo Volkner made his proclamation as if he were in charge of the day. Deep murmurs of agreement followed.

The men went back to the field and labored. At one point, Leo shot Konrad a grin. “We’ll still finish your place by the day’s end.”

Just barely
. “Ja.”

“Your wheat—it’s fine wheat.” Leo looked down at the seeds stuck to his sweaty palm. “Next year will be good for both of us.”

Konrad grunted. By exchanging labor with all the other neighbors, he’d come out on the short end of the deal—many hadn’t come through for him today. On top of that, since Volkner didn’t put in wheat, he’d bartered his labor; his work today cost dearly. Konrad pledged to give him wheat seed for next year’s crop. Volkner was no better than that greedy old buzzard of a mother he had.

“Ja, next year should be excellent.” Volkner added to the windrow. “We’ll have abundant fields, we’ll have our wives by our sides, and tasty food on the table.”

Folks kept making comments about Annie’s absence. Heartily sick of it, Konrad pounced on the opportunity. “After the reaping, I’m going to fetch my wife. You’ll keep an eye on things here for me, ja?”

“Certainly. I’ll give you a letter to drop off for my Marcella.”

Late in the afternoon, Mrs. Volkner and her daughter came out to the field. Work stopped, and the men all drank water and ate sandwiches. It took a few minutes to gulp everything down; then they turned back to the field.

Volkner mused, “I’m thinking to put in some fruit trees. Jakob has peaches. Annie baked tarts for all of us.”

Konrad’s jaw tightened.

“His wife brought them out to us in a mule cart along with the sandwiches. She made us all eat pickles first—for the salt.”

“His wife?” Konrad couldn’t believe he’d heard correctly.

“Ja.” Volkner’s brows scrunched, and his face puckered with concentration. “I didn’t think of it until now. How is it that Annie is still there?”

Konrad cleared his throat to buy a moment of time. He scrambled to concoct a plausible reply. “I was surprised that Jakob’s wife drove out to the fields. It is good to hear she’s up and around. He wrote that she has some”—his voice dropped and he leaned forward—“well . . .
problems
. Until her health gets better, I decided it was best for Annie to stay and mind Jakob’s daughter.”

Nodding sagely, Volkner said, “Especially with the girl going blind, that makes sense.”

“Blind?”

Leo gave him an odd look. “You didn’t know?”

“Ja. Of course I did.” Konrad quickly recovered. “My Annie wrote all about it. I didn’t think they were telling anyone that sad news yet.”

Seemingly satisfied with that excuse, Leo started working.

For the rest of the afternoon, anger had Konrad working like a man possessed. Even after the reaper made its final pass and the men all left, he couldn’t rest. Jakob had a wife. A wife.

He didn’t need Annie to watch his brat.

From the first time they met, Jakob acted full of himself—as if he were smarter and better. His brother was the same way. Jakob married and moved away, but his brother was just as bad. Konrad’s mouth curled into a sneer of a smile. Bartholomew got just what he deserved the day he’d fallen from the loft, spooked the stallion, and gotten trampled to death.

Konrad sympathized with old man Stauffer and made himself indispensable. Even then, the old man hadn’t seen him as more than a hired hand until Konrad resorted to the one ploy he’d held in reserve: After rehearsing until it sounded convincing, he approached the old man with a request to seek Annie’s hand. Stauffer gave his blessing, and the marriage ensued.

Pacing inside the empty farmhouse, his emphatic footsteps echoing all around him, Konrad strove to make order of the tumult of thoughts screaming at him. He was married, but he didn’t have his wife. Jakob wasn’t supposed to have a wife, but he did. And he had Annie.

Volkner had a big mouth. Until now, he’d been so besotted, he’d spoken of nothing but his bride-to-be. Sooner or later, he’d say something about Jakob’s bride.
I’ll order Annie to tell everyone what I told Volkner—that Jakob’s new bride was sickly. And Volkner said the brat was going blind.
That and a sick bride added up to a plausible excuse for Annie’s prolonged absence.

Jakob couldn’t keep Annie anymore—he had no excuse. Tomorrow was Saturday. Perfect. Konrad would take the train and show up at church Sunday, just as he’d planned. There, he’d reclaim his wife. In fact, he’d insist upon Annie staying in town with him overnight so they could catch the Monday train coming back.

Satisfied with that plan, Konrad stopped pacing.

His satisfaction evaporated. In stark relief to the upstairs, the downstairs was spotless. Annie should have been there to cook and clean for the past seven months—but especially today. A farmer’s wife was meant to labor at his side, but cooking for the harvest hands was her greatest responsibility each year. Annie had failed him. Instead, the Volkner women and a bunch of the nosey old biddies had fussed and poked around. The floor gleamed, the furniture had been dusted, and a stupid bouquet of flowers sat on the small parlor table. Konrad knew full well those busybodies gossiped far more than they’d worked, and they’d continue to cluck forever about the way things had been.

It wouldn’t happen again. Annie would know her place and stay there; Jakob would keep his distance or regret it. After lighting a kerosene lamp, Konrad shoved the glass chimney back in place. The glass shattered. All at once, he cut and burned his right hand. Vile curses filled the air.

Twenty-Four

I
t ain’t your cookin’, Annie.” Hope stared at her plate. She’d managed to eat only half of a flapjack and a bite of scrambled eggs. “I’m just not hungry.”

“I understand.”

Hope didn’t have enough energy to get up from the table. She sat there and pulled Jakob’s robe around herself for warmth. “I wish y’all woulda gone to church today. You didn’t have to stay home with me.”

“Nonsense.”

Hope absently rubbed her neck. “These here spots just make me look bad off. It’s been so long since I took sick, clean forgot about that happenin’ whenever I run me a fever.”

“We were very worried. We still are—oh, I don’t mean that I’m worried about the children. I’ve told you that, haven’t I?”

“ ’Bout ten hundred times.” Hope skidded her fork around the syrup on the edge of her plate. “Does my heart good, seein’ that Emmy-Lou and your little Johnny are healthy as heifers. Wouldn’t want nobody to get whatever ’twas that I got, but ’specially not the kids. Even if ’n they did, they probably wouldn’t break out in this silly rash.”

“Knowing my brother, he’ll ask Velma to drop by on her way home from church to take a look at you. You may as well resign yourself to it.” Annie took away the plate and scraped the uneaten food into the swill bucket. In no time at all, she’d washed the dishes.

Johnny let out a series of little squeaks. “The baby’s settin’ hisself up to sing scales. Best you get him afore he takes a mind to wail out a whole opera.”

Annie took her son out of the cradle and nestled him to herself. “I’m so thankful Jakob has that medical book.”

“I’m thankful he knows where to look up stuff. It don’t make sense to me at all, how they got it in there.”

“He practically tore out the pages, searching. At first, we thought you might have measles—but your eyes weren’t red and runny. And the rash started right away—but not on your face first. Then Jakob saw the part about fever rashes and read it. We immediately knew that was you. Did you know measles have to be quarantined?”

Footsteps sounded on the back porch. That didn’t seem quite right. Jakob always entered through the front door. But that wasn’t his walk. Puny as she felt, Hope still knew the sound of his approach. The knob turned without anyone knocking, so it had to be Phineas.

A tall, gaunt blond man stepped into the kitchen uninvited.

Annie let out a loud gasp and backed up a step.

Even if Annie hadn’t reacted, Hope would have known who the man was—his eyes were cruel, and the way his mouth tilted into a purposefully nasty excuse for a smile proclaimed him to be Annie’s polecat of a husband.

“Annie, you’re going home with me now.”

Her arms tightened convulsively around her son, and Johnny let out a small wail of protest.

An imperious wave of his hand accompanied Konrad’s order.

“Give Jakob’s wife her brat. You’ve done more than enough here, and it’s past time to go.”

Pale as could be, Annie sidled past him and pressed her beloved son into Hope’s arms. Her eyes pled with Hope to protect him.

“I’m weak as water.” It was no lie. Hope shakily rose to her feet. “I’m going to need help getting upstairs. Please, Annie, carry the baby up for me. I don’t want to drop him.”

Annie automatically took back her son.

Hope shuffled a few steps, then stopped directly in front of Konrad. “You know that sayin’ bout ‘are you a man or a louse’? Well ’tis plain for me to see which one you are.” Her legs started to buckle, and she didn’t fight it. Instead, she reached out and grabbed fistsful of his shirt. “Takes a lotta gumption to come in here.” For good measure, Hope clung tight and laid her head against his chest. “Thankee. I’ve been sore sick.”