Jacob's Return Page 10

  “Another burr in his beard,” Ruben muttered, getting a swat from Levi, as if he’d cussed at table.

  Esther giggled.

  Jacob too wanted to laugh, but Levi was scowling, from one of them to the other, sobering them fast. “This farm is struggling, you may not know,” he said. “Jacob, you have the means to turn it around, but Simon, I think, would rather fail than take your money.”

  “Simon, I fear, I would allow to fail,” Jacob said. “But we’ll bring the farm around, Datt, so you will be proud of it again.”

  Ruben frowned. “The farm looks fine to me.”

  Levi swatted him again. “You would think so.”

  Chapter 8

  In August, a farmer’s slack month, people from all over the Valley, and as far away as New Holland, came to build the kinderhaus.

  Levi’s respect for Ruben’s ability was apparent when he hired him to be their official builder.

  Ruben examined the area, did sketches, and designed everything ahead of time. He oversaw the cutting of trees on the far reaches of the farm, then he got the oak beams cut at Two-Finger Zeke’s sawmill.

  After morning milking, a line of buggies a mile long, made their way to the Sauder house. The frolic, as some called it, would be a day of teamwork and skill that had been practiced for generations. No event was enjoyed more in their community, none brought them as close as a frolic.

  By seven, teams of men — in a combination of work and competition — began lifting the first side-wall into place.

  Too many children to count played far across the yard, under the trees, quilts checkering the lawn like tulips in a garden. Old Saul Yoder’s children played with Young Saul Yoder’s children, nieces and nephews older than aunts and uncles. A few women became the baby-sitters for the day, freeing others to cook, clean-up or serve meals.

  Aaron and Emma went off happily with Lena Stutzman to play with the kinder.

  By noon, the outside walls, locked together with wooden pegs, stood straight and tall while the workers ate. Aaron and Emma regaled Jacob with the words they’d learned that morning. As he tried to coax them to eat, rather than toss their food, Rachel came and sat beside him. “Go back to work, Jacob. I will feed them.”

  “Thanks, Rache.” He stood, but waited to leave till they settled down.

  Simon marched up. “Jacob, you are needed for men’s work, for a change.”

  Jacob burned, but he did not move.

  “All right you two,” Rachel said to his children. “What would you like to put in your mouths?”

  “Cookies, Momly,” Aaron said.

  “Rachel!” Simon shouted.

  “Cookies, Momly?” Luke Stutzman asked his mother.

  “Aaron and Emma learned that word this morning, Deacon Sauder,” Lena Stutzman said. “Rachel did not teach it to them. They must think it fits her, but do not worry, they will outgrow it.”

  Simon grunted. “Jacob. Let’s go help those who are helping us.”

  Jacob followed, certain of two things. People in the district were aware of Simon’s anger toward Rachel — Lena had even defended her. And his children’s new name for Rachel was sweet. And perfect.

  * * * *

  Ruben spent the day calling out team commands and barely stopped to eat.

  Esther worried about him.

  Mid-afternoon, she offered him a drink of cool cider.

  Sweat poured down his rugged face into his dark beard as he gave her a grateful smile. “Danke,” he said, raising the glass in a salute before gulping it down. “Thank you.” He swiped his sleeve across his mouth. “You should not be working so hard in your condition.”

  Esther shrugged. “What matter, if I am going to die anyway?”

  Ruben grimaced. “I told you I was sorry.”

  “Sorry because I am going to die? Or sorry for saying it?”

  He thought about his answer for a minute, and a sickly-sheepish expression crossed his face. “For both?”

  “Ruben Miller. Did it ever occur to you that you might have frightened the daylights out of me?”

  He looked surprised, and repentant. “Did I?”

  “No, dumpkoff.”

  He grinned. “My mother used to call me that!”

  Esther laughed. The sparkle in Ruben’s eyes told her he’d made her laugh on purpose.

  “Are you well?” he asked

  “I am,” she said, pleased at his sincere interest.

  “You shouldn’t be working so hard, you know.”

  “I would be no kind of sister if I did not help Rachel right now.”

  “You are good friends too, I see, as well as sisters.”

  “Ach. Ya. We tease and argue just as much now as always. But either of us would give our lives for the other. And I worry sometimes about how she has suffered … first with Jacob leaving, and now with him coming back.”

  “I do not think she suffers from his return.”

  “They should have been together from the beginning,” Esther said, then colored at the look Ruben gave her.

  “If we could change the past, we would be God,” he said with bitterness.

  “I am sorry, Ruben. But your suffering and mine could not be helped. Rachel’s and Jacob’s could have been. Their heartache came, not of Divine intervention, but Simon’s, and we both know it.”

  Ruben took his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. “Simon lying to Jacob about Rachel loving him, instead of Jacob, and as their mother lay dying, was unforgivable. Simon should be horsewhipped.”

  Esther nodded. “Heaven help me, sometimes I hate him for it.”

  “Esther Zook,” her father said in his Bishop’s voice as he approached. “Go and help your sister serve these weary workers their supper.”

  To hate others was a sin. Esther knew this. Though her father did not say it, his admonishment was clear. She turned to leave and noticed for the first time, Levi standing there stunned. Oh, Lord, he’d heard them. And he’d not understood the depth of Simon’s cruelty until this moment; she could tell from his look. She grasped his hand. “I am sorry, Levi. I did not mean to hurt you.”

  Levi squeezed it. “’Twas not your words did the harm.”

  * * * *

  That night, Ruben helped Simon move his bedroom furniture into the kinderhaus. When Rachel finished cleaning the main-house kitchen, about three hours later, she began to climb the stairs toward her old bedroom.

  “Liebchen,” Levi called, as he turned in his chair to watch her. “You go check on the little ones before you go to your house?”

  Rachel came back down the stairs, thinking it was the longest walk she’d ever taken, and went to her father-in-law’s rocker. She put her arms around his neck from behind and pressed her cheek to his. “Ich liebe dich,” she said.

  “I love you too.” He turned to look at her, took her hand and brought her around to stand before him. “Sit, tell me.”

  Rachel pulled another rocker forward and sat facing him. She took his hands and held them on her lap staring at them — big, callused, hard-working hands. She’d seen them snap a tree limb in two, gentle a skittish colt, or a sleepy grand-baby.

  She looked into his eyes, her heart breaking to know she would hurt him. “I will continue to cook and clean house for Simon. I will do almost everything a wife would, but I cannot share his house or his bed.”

  His eyes filling, Levi said, “Because Jacob has come home? You love Jacob more?”

  “I will not deny I have always loved Jacob, Levi. You would know it for a lie. But when I married Simon, I cared for him and I thought he cared for me.”

  “You thought—”

  “Shh, Listen. Jacob is not the reason for my decision. Simon is. He hurts me, Levi. Ever since we married, he has hurt me, more than just with the words you and others have heard. Most bruises I have been able to hide, some you have seen. The arm I broke that winter … I did not fall down the stairs, Levi.”

  “Mein Gott.” A tear trailed down his
cheek. He took out a handkerchief, blew his nose. “There is more.”

  As much as she did not want to hurt him, she must be as honest with him as she could be, under the circumstances, and still protect him as the innocent who bore no fault in all this. Levi deserved no less.

  “There is more. Since Jacob has been home Simon’s jealousy and anger have grown. My leaving teaching to care for the twins brought him to a fury that knew no bounds. He hurt me badly the night I told him I quit teaching. I have this to remember his anger.” She removed her kapp and revealed the uneven places she tried to hide when she put her hair up this morning.

  Levi gasped and she put her kapp back on, likely embarrassed, not only because of the sight she revealed, but because of the marriage she revealed.

  Rachel looked at her hands. That was the hardest for her, too, revealing her failed marriage. She sighed. “I am a good deal at fault for the condition of my marriage, Levi. I do not want you to blame Simon for all of it. But he does frighten me.”

  The pain from her shoulder, and other bruises like it, faded. But her fear had just seemed to grow. “I am frightened of being alone with Simon. He knows this. I have slept alone in the room next to Jacob and the twins since that night. Simon moved to the other end of the hall.”

  Her father-in-law nodded. He did not act surprised, just sad.

  “Another reason, Levi, why I cannot let Simon hurt me any longer, a secret I share with only you.” She placed her hand on her abdomen. “Here is another grand-baby of yours growing under my heart.”

  A sob escaped Levi as he stood. He hated showing his emotions, so he must be hurting badly to allow her to witness such a display. Helping her to her feet, he took her into his arms and held her until he got himself under control. “Such sorrow, such joy, all at once is too much for this old man.”

  Sorrow and joy together. Yes. The same for her. She rejoiced at this new life, and yet it was a bitter-sweet rejoicing, for all of that. Because the man she loved would not be the man sharing this new life with her, not in the way she wished.

  Levi lifted her chin. “You take care of this babe, Liebchen, and Jacob will watch over the both of you. Ya?”

  “He will.”

  Levi stepped back. “It is sad.”

  “Surely not because there will be a new baby?”

  “Because it’s not the baby’s papa who will be looking after the both of you.”

  Rachel squeezed his hand. What could she say to that?

  Chapter 9

  Harvest.

  On every farm in the valley, brawny six-mule teams plodded belly-deep through vibrant fields of green.

  Up close, row upon row of erect corn stalks pointed to heaven, thick full ears topped with tufts of silk, jutting out on all sides.

  Hands frail with age, or small and eager, toiled together. Work became play … and prayer. Using the same time-worn implements their grandfathers used, they gained in fellowship what they lost in speed.

  Rachel’s printing press sat as if dormant. At harvest, living must come first. Life.

  And a new life was growing inside her. Rachel looked toward her child’s father, uncle, and grandfather, working in the field in the distance. Family. Would her child be dark or fair, boy or girl … Rachel did not care. She cared that this precious soul, this gift she thought never to receive, would be here soon and it would be loved.

  Family. Heritage. Tradition.

  Levi drove the team pulling the wagon, matching Simon’s and Jacob’s pace as they picked corn, threw it in the wagon-bed, then cut the stalks and moved on.

  Levi would stop, get down, collect and bind the stalks, then drive forward for Jacob and Simon to pick from a new section. They worked with precise speed and cooperation, missing only a few ears now and again. And that’s where Rachel and the twins’ jobs began.

  Rachel carried two wooden buckets while Aaron and Emma searched through the blunted stalks. When they located an ear they’d shriek as if they found a treasure.

  They were the treasures, waiting to be complimented when each ear was displayed for her approval before it was summarily dropped into a bucket. Their joy was one of adventure and discovery.

  In a silent communication only twins seemed to understand, each adopted a bucket and filled only his or her own, but checked regularly to make certain the other didn’t have a larger hoard.

  As the afternoon progressed, Rachel’s love grew with each squeal. Aaron with Jacob’s quirks and smiles, and the same love of nature, would someday rescue orphaned mouse babies, birds, or squirrels too. Emma, with her ready kisses and dainty ways, made Rachel want to protect her forever.

  They held her heart in their pudgy little hands, these, her first, her oldest children.

  What would they think of the new baby? Aaron would act the big brother and protector. Emma would shower the babe with hugs and kisses.

  When they deposited their next treasures, Rachel bestowed a couple of hugs and kisses of her own.

  Jacob, hat in hand, wiping his brow with his sleeve came walking toward them. Even at a distance, his smile called to her, and her urge to run into his arms took determination to overcome.

  But Rachel’s steps quickened nonetheless, as did Jacob’s, and only Emma’s shriek halted them. With the fields cut, they would have been seen from the barn had they embraced as she wished to do, as, she believed, he wished also.

  Disappointment and relief showed in his look. “A near thing,” he said.

  She nodded, wanting his arms about her.

  As if sensing her need, he took her hand. “Come, enough work for today.”

  “But we’ve more corn to fetch.”

  “It will be there in the morning.”

  “There are more fields for morning, Jacob, and night animals will surely gather it, if we do not take it now.”

  Jacob gazed toward the unharvested corn, shaking his head. “The rest will be left to dry on the stalks for winter fodder. If there are hungry beasts out tonight, let them have it. They need to eat too. Come, walk with me.” He tugged her hand.

  She couldn’t deny him anything, and her look must reveal it, because he raised his brow. This reading each other did not ease her need, but swelled it, until she was ready to—

  Emma’s scream stopped Rachel’s thoughts.

  The child came running, Aaron giving chase, a look of unholy glee on his face as he raised a fat, wiggling, red worm toward his sister.

  Emma slammed, face first, into Rachel’s skirts, the blow nearly knocking her over.

  Aaron got caught mid-run and was pitched into the air by his father.

  Those two boys, one tiny and not knowing better, the other big and burly, who should know better, laughed together.

  Rachel lifted Emma, still sobbing, into her arms and gave Jacob a stern look. “Is there some unwritten rule that males should all be bad-mannered? You did that to me once, you know. Remember how frightened I was?”

  “Ach, Rache,” Jacob said, not hiding his smile.

  Aaron held the worm out like a peace offering. “Momly?”

  And how could she not accept it, but Emma whimpered anew.

  “Thank you, darling,” Rachel said to Aaron. “Carry it to my flower garden for me, will you? It will help the winter vegetables to grow.”

  Aaron nodded.

  “Now, tell your sister you’re sorry you scared her.”

  “Em?” he said leaning from his father’s arms and tilting his head to the side, his look contrite.

  He waited in vain for Emma to turn from Rachel’s neck and look at him. “Sowwy, Em.”

  Emma peeked at him with one eye. “Bad boy.”

  Aaron’s trembling lips turned down at the corners. That was the worst thing anyone could say to the sensitive little boy, and his sister knew it.

  “Aaron’s not bad, darling,” Rachel said, kissing Emma’s forehead. “Just playful.”

  “Play?” Emma asked hopefully, smiling shyly at her brother.

  Another bi
t of unspoken communication took place, then they scrambled to the ground together. Aaron placed the worm in his father’s hand before he took Emma’s and walked away, Rachel and Jacob behind them.

  Jacob regarded the wiggling creature in his palm and smiled.

  “He’s just like you,” Rachel said.

  “Cute as a button?”

  Rachel shook her head. “Mischievous, playful. Annoying, when he doesn’t realize it’s time to stop joking and be serious. Like you.”

  “But you love him anyway, despite that, maybe even because of it?” Like me, he did not say, but he implied it and searched her face.

  To answer his unspoken question would not be wise. She turned the conversation. “It’s been weeks since we printed our request for press parts in the Chalkboard.” She straightened Emma’s kapp from behind, then for good measure, Aaron’s straw hat. “And we haven’t heard a thing.”

  Jacob failed to hide his disappointment over her non-answer, but he rallied. “It might be another week or more before we hear anything.”

  “Might be never, which would be fine with me,” Simon said, beside them. Neither of them had seen him coming. “You gonna talk all day, Jacob, or you gonna help with milking?”

  Mary Bieler stopped her buggy in the road. “Hey, Rachel, we miss your newspaper. Hope you print another one soon.”

  Jacob indicated Mary to Simon with a nod and a smirk. “Mary likes it.”

  “Thank you, Mary,” Rachel called.

  “It brings happy reading to our house. See you Sunday, then.”

  “Ya. See you.”

  Jacob smiled and turned Simon’s hand palm up. “Present for you,” he said, placing the worm into it. “From Aaron. Let’s go milk.”

  Within a week, a printer’s apprentice in Boston Massachusetts wrote that steam and cylinder presses had replaced Gutenberg’s movable type presses in newspaper offices years before. ‘Fortunately,’ the man wrote, ‘There are probably broken and unused Gutenberg presses all over the world.’ No help at all.

  Three weeks after that, Rachel brought another letter into the barn. Ruben was adjusting the new frame, while Jacob studiously dismantled and tagged parts, from joint to peg.