Robin Lee Hatcher (21 page)

“Oh,” she said, a breathless word.

“Once the fire started, he didn’t call for us right away. He tried to put it out himself so he wouldn’t get in trouble. By the time he yelled for help, it was too late to do anything but save the animals and get out ourselves.”

She thought of what might have happened to Bernard or Jakob, and it made her feel ill. Pressing the palm of one hand against her abdomen, she turned to look at the debris that had once been the barn.

“Do not be too hard on him, Jakob. Do not discipline him in anger. He has had a terrible fright.”

“A
fright?
Karola, he burned down our barn! He could have burned down a lot more.”

“He is only a little boy. It was an accident.”

“He has to be punished.”

She sighed. “
Ja,
but he also needs forgiveness, Jakob. He needs your grace.”

“What he’s going to get is my hand on his backside, and it may as well be now.” He spun on his heel and strode toward the house.

Karola began to weep again. Silent tears, this time, slipping down her cheeks. The truth was, she felt her faith shaken by these events. She wanted to ask God, “Why this? Why now?” She felt afraid of the future, of what tomorrow might bring, and was ashamed because of it.

Oh, ye of little faith.

She knew she should go inside. She should see to Maeve and Aislinn. They were frightened, too. They couldn’t possibly understand it all. The barn had burned. Their brother was being punished. Their father was angry.

“I reckon it’ll be all right.”

She turned at Lance’s words. She’d forgotten he was there.

“No matter what, Karola, it
will
be all right. It could’ve been a whole lot worse. No matter what happens tomorrow, the good Lord’s still holdin’ you, Jakob, and the children in the palm of his hand. He’s holdin’ us all there.”

“I know,” she whispered, even though it didn’t seem true just now.

Late into the night, Jakob lay on his side, his back toward Karola— as hers was toward him. The open bedroom window let in the acrid scent of smoke still hovering in the air all these hours later. He could taste the ash on his tongue. Or was it the anger he tasted?

Why had this happened? Now, of all times, when he was facing the loss of his crops to the drought. Now, when they had little money put aside to see them through. How was he supposed to trust God, to have hope instead of expectations of calamity, when something always went wrong? Karola had told him to forgive Bernard, to show his son grace. Well, where was
God’s
grace in this?

He remembered the despair he felt after his fall off the horse. And here he was again. Wasn’t he supposed to be different somehow? Where was the joy he’d felt only a week ago?

Restless, Jakob got out of bed and went downstairs. In the kitchen, he lit a candle and set it on the table, then he took the farm accounts ledger from the shelf where he kept it and placed it on the table near the candle. He sat on the chair but didn’t open the book. He didn’t need to. He knew what the columns of figures said.

They were in trouble.

A nagging feeling told Jakob he wouldn’t find answers for that trouble in his accounts book. He should look in the Bible, as he’d seen Karola do. But he didn’t know where to look.

Then he should pray. At the very least, he knew he should pray. But he felt empty of words, powerless to express what he wanted to say.

“What do you want from me, God?”

He doubted that was the best way to begin, and he stopped before all the anger could erupt from within. But his mind couldn’t be silenced, and it repeated the question.

What do you want from me?

Did Jakob expect an answer? He wasn’t sure. But one came.

Know me.

The words didn’t bring Jakob comfort. If anything, they made him more restless than before.

Chapter Thirty-Four

T
he house was as quiet as a tomb.

Bernard had been forbidden to leave his room except for meals and to use the lavatory. Taking their cue from their father’s dark mood, Maeve and Aislinn remained in their room without being told.

At lunchtime the day after the fire, Karola fed the children without calling for Jakob to join them. Poor Bernard wilted in his father’s presence, so ashamed was he for what he’d done. She thought the boy might be enticed to eat if Jakob wasn’t at the table. It didn’t work. Bernard only played with his food.

After the children returned to their rooms, Karola went outside. Pausing on the top porch step, she shaded her eyes with her hand and looked across the barnyard. The black rubble still smoldered in a few places. Lance had promised to help clear the site on Saturday, but Jakob hadn’t wanted to wait. He was already sifting through the debris, looking for anything that might be salvaged, his face and arms blackened by soot.

“Jakob.”

He straightened and looked toward her.

“Lunch is ready.”

He gave his head a shake, then returned his gaze to the ground.

Karola went down the steps and crossed the barnyard. “Jakob.” She stopped at the edge of the rubble. “You did not eat breakfast. You must eat something now.”

“There’s too much to do.”

“You will make yourself sick if you do not rest awhile. You are not that long recovered from your fall.”

“I don’t have time to rest, Karola.” He straightened again, this time scowling at her. “You don’t have any idea the trouble we’re in.”

“Then you should tell me.”

“I don’t want you to worry.”

Exasperated, she said, “How can I not worry with you acting this way?”

“You don’t understand.”

Karola took a deep breath, trying to control her sudden anger. He was being bullheaded. He was pulling away from her again, the way he used to. He was keeping things bottled up inside and excluding her.

She took another deep breath. “I will get a pair of gloves and help you. Two will make the work go faster.”

“You can’t help me.” He motioned with his hand, a gesture of dismissal. “Your skirts might catch fire from a live spark.”

“I can tuck my skirts into my waistband.”

“No.”

“Then I will put on a pair of your trousers.”

Jakob shook his head. “Karola, I’d rather be alone.”

“But you are not alone. I am with you, and God is with us. Do not shut us out because of this misfortune.”

“You and God aren’t going to get us a new barn.” He slapped a blackened glove against his chest. “
I’ve
got to figure out a way to do that.”

She knew her disappointment must be evident on her face. “Where is your faith, Jakob?”

He swore.

She’d never heard Jakob use such a word.

All of a sudden, he stepped from the rubble and walked past her, striding toward the house.

Karola hesitated only a moment before following him. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer as he dropped his gloves on the back porch, then went inside. In the kitchen, he stopped to wash up in the kitchen sink.

“Jakob?”

He turned around. “I’m going to the bank. I’ll need to get a loan.” He raked damp fingers through his hair. “I don’t even know if Mr. Mindel will consider it. Not with the drought. Not with everybody in this valley in need. But we’ve got to get a barn up before winter, and that’ll take money we don’t have.”

“We should pray, Jakob. I know God will provide.”

“
How
do you know?”

“Because we are his. Because he is good. Because we can trust him. He kept you and Bernard safe yesterday. You could have been hurt, either of you—even killed—but you were not.”

“There’s other ways to be hurt besides physically. If this place is mortgaged and we lose this year’s crops …” He left the sentence unfinished as he headed across the kitchen toward the dining room door.

“Jakob!” She followed on his heels. “We
must
trust God.”

He stopped outside the parlor and spun to face her. “God helps those who help themselves. Isn’t that what the Bible says?”

“
Nein,
that is not what it says. It says his strength is perfected in our weakness. We are helped when we recognize we can do nothing without him.”

“Well, it seems to me
I’m
the one who labored for every cent that paid for this place. It was by
my
sweat the fields were tilled every spring and the crops were harvested every fall. It’ll be by
my
sweat we keep this place, if we do.”

Karola stared at him, heartbroken and furious at the same time. “Jakob Hirsch, have you so soon forgotten what Christ accomplished for you? You have made him too small in your eyes. Do not be arrogant and prideful. Ask him for help. Pray and ask.”

“You’ll have to do the praying, Karola. You’re the pious one in this marriage. I’ve got to take action.”

Jakob regretted the things he’d said. He hadn’t meant to lash out at Karola. None of this was her fault, and he shouldn’t have acted as if it was. Still, he didn’t apologize to her before leaving for Shadow Creek. He might be sorry, but that didn’t change their circumstances.

He was halfway to town before he realized the darkness around him was caused by more than his mood. Black clouds rolled across the heavens, driven by a steady wind from the west. He pulled in on the reins and stared upward as he sniffed the air.

Rain? Did it smell of rain? Or was that wishful thinking?

Know me.

In the wake of that small voice in his heart came the shame. It hit him so forcefully he thought it would knock him from his horse.

Trust me, Jakob.

Karola was right. He
was
arrogant and proud. He had made the God of the universe small in his eyes.

“Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the L
ORD
, I will joy in the God of my salvation.”

He wasn’t sure where the words came from, but he knew they were true. And suddenly he understood. God wasn’t to be praised because things went well. God wasn’t to be praised because he gave his children what they wanted. He was to be praised because of who he is. Jakob was to know him and praise him, no matter what.

“O Lord, I’m sorry.”

He heard the rumble of a distant thunder. It seemed as if God were answering him.

“Show me what to do next.”

Karola had fallen asleep on the sofa while reading her Bible. It was the thunder that awakened her.

She sat up, then stood and walked to the parlor window. The trees around the house were swaying in the wind, and the sky above them had turned black with clouds.

Rain! It was going to rain!

She hurried to the front porch where she leaned over the railing and looked up. Yes, those were most definitely rain clouds. She could smell the moisture, a clean, beautiful fragrance, long absent from this valley.

“Thank you, Lord!”

Lightning flashed above the mountains in the west, followed shortly by the crack of thunder. She stood there, listening as the sound rolled toward her, enjoying the wind in her face. Then she remembered how frightened the children had been the last time there’d been a thunderstorm. Quickly, she returned indoors and climbed the stairs.

Just as she reached the second floor, another crack of thunder rumbled across the sky. Before the sound died away, Aislinn came scurrying down the hall toward Karola, Maeve close behind her.

Karola lifted Aislinn into her arms. “Did the noise frighten you?”

Aislinn nodded.

“Do you want me to tell you a story?”

“Yes,” Maeve said without hesitation.

Karola smiled at the older girl as she brushed a hand over her hair. “We’ll go into your brother’s room. That way we won’t be disobeying your father. All right?”

Maeve nodded, then turned and opened Bernard’s bedroom door. “Karola’s gonna tell us a—” She stopped. “He’s not here.”

“Not here?” Karola stepped into the bedroom and looked around.

Maeve was right. Bernard wasn’t in his room. At least not in plain view. Karola checked under the bed and in the wardrobe, just to be certain. He wasn’t either of those places. Karola set Aislinn on the floor, then went out into the hall and to the bathroom.

“Bernard?”

But the bathroom was empty, and there was no answer to his name.

Louder, she called again, “Bernard.”

Oh, that boy. He was going to be in terrible trouble if she didn’t find him before his father returned.

“Help me look for him, Maeve. He must be hiding from us.”

“I’ll find him,” Maeve assured her. “I know all his hiding places.” And away she dashed.

Karola lifted Aislinn into her arms again. “Bernard, please answer me. It is all right. I am not angry with you. But you must answer me. Bernard.”

Father God, make him answer me. Help me find him.

“Bernard! Answer me.”

An hour later, Karola and Maeve had searched the house and yard, and during that time, the rain had begun to fall, first lightly, then in torrents. The storm mirrored her growing panic.

Bernard was gone.

Jakob hadn’t gone to town. He hadn’t gone to the bank to ask for a loan. Instead, he’d turned off the road and ridden into the midst of his wheat fields. He’d ignored the storm, mindless of the wind and lightning and thunder. He’d stood on the land he had plowed, the land he still hoped to harvest in the fall, and he’d given it to God. He’d given his home and his lands, his wife and his children, and finally his pride. He’d surrendered every piece of himself that he knew he’d been holding back and asked God to show him if there was more to be given that day.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been raining before he realized he was drenched clear through to the skin. Rain. Blessed rain. An element Lance said God poured down upon the just and the unjust—and the latter was surely him.

Jakob turned his face upward and opened his mouth. The rain tasted of hope, but he knew the hope had risen from within his spirit.

Grinning, he grabbed the pommel and swung into the saddle, then jabbed the horse’s ribs with his boot heels and rode hard toward home.

When he cantered into the barnyard fifteen minutes later, he saw Karola near the corral, as soaked as he was, struggling to harness the horse to the carriage.

“Karola!”

She spun around. Her eyes widened. “Jakob!” She ran toward him, holding up her sodden skirt, the hem blackened with mud. “Jakob, Bernard is gone. We have looked everywhere and cannot find him. His wooden soldiers are gone, too. I think he has run away.”

Jakob’s first instinct was to shout orders at his wife, then rush off to find his son. But something stopped him.

“What are we to do?” There were tears in her voice.

Jakob dismounted, took hold of Karola’s hands in both of his, and answered, “First, we pray.”