Forevermore (36 page)

“Oh my.”

“Annie thunk you could use them.” She grabbed the pair of pullets she’d brought. Jakob knew his neighbors well and had sent food for harvest; Annie was just as generous. Hope told herself that when she was gone, they’d take good care of one another.

Gramma leaned close. “Daisy’s beside herself. The baby’s got the fever. To my reckonin’, he’s past the worst of it, but Daisy hasn’t slept for two days.”

Annie spent the morning helping with laundry, cooking, and dunking the sick kids in the tub. By the time she left, Daisy had taken a long nap and the baby looked fine. Folks in that household looked a whale of a lot better, but Hope left still every bit as confused as when she arrived.
How did I go and let myself fall in love with a man who’s admitted he’s been plannin’ to send me away? That’s the most dumbest thing I ever did. I gotta be careful. I ain’t gonna let my feelin’s show. Thataway when I leave tomorrow, nobody’s gonna get embarrassed
.

The Pattersons and Whites were doing well, so Hope went on to the Richardsons’. A hideous sound from the house warned Hope she’d encounter some kind of catastrophe. Jeb Richardson helped her out of the cart and rasped, “Mama’s beside herself. Linette’s fever got real high during the night, so we cut off her hair. Now Linette’s recovering, but she got a gander of herself in the mirror . . .”

“Merciful heavens.” Hope marched into the house, went straight up the stairs, and shouted from the doorway, “Who died?”

She had to repeat herself twice before anyone noticed her. Face blotchy and swollen from crying, Linette shrieked, “Don’t look at me!”

“Caterwaulin’ like that’s bound to make folks take more notice of you.” Hope watched Linette fall theatrically across the bed.

“If ’n you don’t want attention, you’re gonna hafta button your lip.”

Lottie tugged on Hope’s skirt. “I know how to sew buttons. Can I help?”

Laughter blurted out of Marcella, who quickly clamped a hand over her mouth.

“You already have Leo. I won’t ever get a man now!” Linette buried her face in the mattress and started weeping again.

Hope jerked her head toward the door, and the other girls gladly escaped. Mrs. Richardson wavered. Hope told her, “I’d take it kindly if ’n you’d shut the door behind you.”

Once the door clicked, Hope sat on the bed and tapped Linette on the shoulder. When tapping didn’t help, she jostled her. Finally Linette looked at her. “Whatever am I going to do?

I’ll be an old maid!”

“If ’n the onliest reason a man loves you is on account of your hair, he ain’t the man you want. ’Sides, if ’n your hair was what was supposed to ensnare a feller, then you shoulda caught him by now. Seems to me you’re puttin’ a lot of store in something that ain’t much, after all.”

“It’s easy for you to say.” Linette rolled onto her back. “You have all your beautiful hair.”

“You still have your hair, too. It’s just shorter, is all. It ain’t like you’re baldheaded. Didn’t I hear Big Tim Creighton whacked off Sydney’s hair a while back? Well, it didn’t keep him from decidin’ to take her as his bride.”

Linette still looked ready to plunge back into hysterics.

“Besides, I wanna know what’s a-wrong with a gal what ain’t got herself hitched.” She shook her finger. “But before you answer, you’d best ’member I never got married, neither.”

Linette’s watery eyes widened.

“That’s right. You don’t see no weddin’ ring on me.” Hope held up her bare hand and wiggled her fingers. “I been livin’ a good life, helpin’ folks and makin’ lots of fine friends. The apostle Paul said we’re supposed to be content wherever we find ourselves.”

“How can I be content when I’m not finding my husband?”

And how am I to be content when I found the one I love, but he doesn’t want me?

Linette didn’t wait for a reply. “No one understands. Mrs. Whittsley—you know her?”

“She’s the white-haired old woman?”

“The one with the cane—not the one with brown-and-white hair who stands out front of the saloon. That one is Widow O’Toole. Even she’s a widow—so once upon a time, a man even fell in love with her!”

“What were you saying about Mrs. Whittsley?” Hope tried to redirect things.

Linette’s lower lip trembled. “At a sewing bee last year, right in front of everyone, she pointed that mean old cane of hers at me and said I was wasting away the beautiful days of my youth because I kept worrying about my tomorrows.” Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. “Less than an hour later she was talking about how she’d had two babies and another on the way by the time she was twenty. I’m going to be twenty-three next month!”

“I gotta year on you. I’m twenty-four.” Hope pulled a hanky out of her apron pocket and pressed it into Linette’s hand. “But I don’t think it’s the number of years we got behind us that matter. It ain’t even how many lie ahead. It’s what we do with each day the Lord gives us.”

“Today’s awful! My hair’s short as a boy’s. My sisters are planning their weddings, and I’m going to be miserable and lonely tomorrow just like I am today.”

Lord, you sent me here on purpose. You didn’t want me to go off tomorrow and pine for what might have been.
She squeezed Linette’s hand. “You and me—we ain’t never gonna find happiness if we expect someone else to bring it. We gotta make our own happiness.”

“But . . .” Linette asked in a small voice, “don’t you want to be married?”

A few weeks ago, Hope wouldn’t have even thought before answering. The question hit her hard, though.
I do want to be married. I want to be Jakob’s wife. But he was ready to send me away. He even said so
.

“Someday, if ’n God brings a man along that’ll love me deep and true, then I’ll be happy to marry up.” Hope prayed Linette wouldn’t hear the ache in her voice. “But I ain’t gonna settle for nothin’ less.”

Jakob pulled the buckboard into the yard and looked around. Everything was eerily quiet. He’d stayed an extra day at the old homestead. Mrs. Volkner and her daughter had come over and helped him pack up many of the things left behind when he’d swept Annie to safety. Annie had always loved Mama’s dishes and Grandma’s crystal vase, and Jakob was glad to restore those cherished pieces to her.

Then, too, he’d gathered up some things he thought Hope would enjoy. It wouldn’t seem right, leaving Naomi’s wedding-ring quilt on the bed, so he brought several along—most with a star pattern of some variety. That seemed right.

He’d loaded the cedar chest his grandfather made for his grandmother onto the wagon. The long, lacy infant gown inside—Johnny could wear it for his dedication. Best of all, the chest held the wedding gown both Grandma and Mama had worn. Strangely enough, Annie hadn’t worn it—but that was good. It wouldn’t upset her when Hope walked down the aisle to him dressed in the yards of billowing white cotton and lace.

Only where was Hope? Where was everyone?

He went into the house. The downstairs was empty. Upstairs, he found Annie and the children all fast asleep. Hope wasn’t in the garden or the springhouse. Phineas wasn’t in sight, either. Perplexed, Jakob went to the barn. As soon as his eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight to the dim interior, his heart fell to his boots. Hope’s cart was missing.

When did she leave? Where did she go? He couldn’t imagine life without her by his side. Jakob bolted toward the house. He’d awaken Annie and find out where Hope had gone.

In his absence, his daughter had risen from her nap. She sat on the parlor floor, stacking brightly colored buttons and counting to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” She tilted her head up momentarily, then looked back at her buttons.

Jakob squatted down. “Emmy-Lou, Liebling
,
where is Miss Hope?”

Emmy-Lou shrugged. “She went away.”

Away
. Heart thundering and mouth dry, Jakob berated himself for having left without telling Hope he loved her. He’d given her no reason to stay, no indication that her future lay here, on his farm, in his arms.

Logic dictated she’d head north. The farther north one traveled, the later the harvest season. She’d been here so long, the jobs for a cook wouldn’t be available until she reached the middle of South Dakota.

“She taked food with her. Auntie Annie told her to take lots.”

Instead of finding any comfort in that announcement, alarm jolted through him. She’d gone. Truly up and gone.

Not received a single penny or a word of thanks. Hadn’t even stayed to say farewell.

“You be a good girl for Aunt Annie. Daddy’s going to go find Hope.”

He straightened out and strode out of the house. The buckboard would slow him down. He unhitched Nicodemus and didn’t bother with a saddle. Jakob mounted up and headed north.

“Ich liebe dich.”
Emmy-Lou kissed Hope on the cheek.

“I love you, too, sugar pie.” Hope pulled up the cover but didn’t want to leave the room yet. This would be her last time to tuck in Jakob’s daughter. Everything was settled, and she had no reason to remain at the Stauffers’ any longer. One last time, she bent over, inhaled the sweet, indefinable scent of a little girl, pressed a kiss on her forehead, and repeated, “I love you.”

Hope lifted her own quilt from her cot and carried it downstairs.

She’d cut out the golden star for it after returning from the Richardsons’. Moments later, she sat on the settee in the parlor, taking careful, tiny stitches. The star for the Stauffer family on her quilt—that one would always be her favorite. She’d decided to sew it in the midst of a navy blue spot just because it’d help her recall singing with Jakob and Emmy-Lou that night they’d caught the fireflies.

“Jakob!” Phineas called from outside.

Hope tensed. He’d come home. A low rumble of male conversation, then Jakob’s all-too-familiar footsteps sounded on the porch. He came in, cast a long look at her, then turned to clean up at the washstand. “Annie?
Komst.”

Annie went to her brother. They held a whispered conversation. The speed and volume would have made it difficult to follow, but they spoke in German, too. Hope couldn’t understand much more than something about the horse.

Annie sniffled, then went outside.

“I can throw together somethin’ for you to eat,” Hope started.

“No.”

Nervous, Hope swallowed. Doing so didn’t dislodge the ball in her throat. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I think you said somethin’ ’bout your horse.”

“Ja. Nicodemus. He went lame on me again. Phineas and Annie will see to him.” Jakob came into the parlor and sat heavily in his favorite chair. He cleared his throat. “Annie said something about you going away.”

Hope jerked and barely kept from poking her finger with the needle. “Yup. Like I tole you when I come, I go where God sends me and men need me. You’re through the harvest now. You brought in a fine crop, too.”

“It wasn’t just that.”

I know it wasn’t. It was a whole lot more. Sorta like this star here—a tiny piece of heaven on earth.
She bit the inside of her lip.
Why am I being so fanciful?

“You know it wasn’t just the crop,” Jakob repeated.

“The pact. Wasn’t that something? God, He come alongside us, and we got Annie through a rough patch. Sad as it makes me to know that varmint Konrad’s gonna roast in hell for eternity, I got a peace about Annie bein’ safe and maybe someday findin’ a scrap of happiness. You and me—we made a fair team.”

He hummed a sound of agreement. “There’s never been better.”

“I finished up that apron for Emmy-Lou. Jakob, she’s smart as a quip. Maybe her eyes don’t work none too good, but if ’n y’all put your minds to it, I think you’ll come up with lotsa tricks so’s she can lead a full, happy life. The apron—that’s my way of sayin’ to her that she’s a good kitchen helper and needs to do as much as she can to help her auntie.” Hope dared to look at him, her eyes begging him to promise he’d let Emmy-Lou do as much for herself as she could.

“Emmy-Lou especially likes cooking with you.”

“Ain’t that nice of you to say? But she loves her auntie with all her heart. They’ll rub along right fine. I put up butter beans for you. I know you’re the onliest one what likes ’em, but Annie promised she’ll fix ’em for you every now and then.”

Lord, I’m blitherin’ here. I’m like a clock someone wound extra tight and I’m just tick-tick-tickin’ and can’t stop myself
.

“The only person who ever made butter beans taste half as good as you do was my mother. Annie fixing them won’t be the same.”

“I’m shore your mama gave her the recipe. Would you be willin’ to read to me outta the Good Book whilst I finish sewing? I wanna thankee for doing that most every day. Nothing like hearing the Lord’s Word to give a body a gladsome heart.”
And right now, my heart’s feelin’ mighty low.

God? All the other times you took me from one house and sent me and Hattie on to the next one, it felt like a grand adventure. I’m fixin’ to leave in the mornin’, and I shorely would take it as a favor if ’n you’d give me the grace to leave here with a gladsome heart. If not gladsome, at least . . . settled.

“Hope, I’d like to read to you. In fact, I have a specific passage in mind.” He picked up the Bible and shifted in the chair so the lamp wouldn’t cast his shadow on the page. “ ‘I will lift up my eyes unto the hills . . .’ ”

Her needle froze in midair. He was reading the psalm she and Annie came to love and rely on. He even added emphasis to the verse about not being moved. That had meant so much to Annie. Then he got to the last verse—her own favorite. “ ‘The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.’ ”

“You couldn’t have picked a more better verse in the whole Bible. Thankee, Jakob.”

He shut the Bible and set it aside. “There’s still some business we need to discuss. We came to an agreement that first evening. Remember?”

At this rate, she wasn’t ever going to get that star stitched into place. Hope stabbed the needle into the quilt and folded her hands in her lap. “I remember. Mr. Stauffer—”

“Jakob.”

“Jakob, I told you at the start, farmers work hard and don’t got much ready cash. The family comes first. Emmy-Lou’s spectacles cost a lot and I know you was sendin’ money to keep Konrad away. You don’t gotta give me one red cent. I’m goin’ away a rich woman on account of all the verses and memories I got tucked away in my heart.”