Jacob's Return (17 page)

“Rachel? You have Aaron?” Jacob called from the top of the stairs.

“Yes, Jacob.”

“Can you come up here? Emma’s all-over-red now, some kind of rash, I think.”

Rachel took the oatmeal water off the burner, looked about the kitchen, picked up the yarrow tea she’d made earlier, then
Grossmutter’s
remedy book. But Aaron was still clinging to her, so she put everything down to lift him.

Her father placed his hand on her arm. “A rash could be catching. No need for the both of them to be sick. We’ll take him. You go up. Don’t worry about Aaron until Emma is well. He will be fine.”

Her father lifted Aaron into his arms and kissed his cheek. “Shh, little one. Come, Simon, drive me.”

Rachel knew it was a measure of Aaron’s distress just then, that he did not seek his Unkabear’s arms.

Simon gave her a searching look. “Datt has gone to visit his sister down Briar Patch Road. He won’t be back for a few days. Jacob and I will have to do the chores by ourselves.”

Her father swore, a rare occurrence “You will do the chores by yourself for as long as need be.”

Ruddy color stained Simon’s cheeks.

“Tell Jacob to tend his daughter and not to worry about the farm,” her father said. “The English doctor is in Philadelphia for another week, or I would fetch him for you. I will send Esther tomorrow to see if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Pop.” She started up the stairs but her father’s call stopped her.

“I almost forgot. The Elders are praying over their decision about your newspaper. We will meet tomorrow to discuss it.”

Rachel sighed. “Right now, the only thing that matters is getting Emma well.”

* * * *

Simon pondered his wife’s words as he climbed into his buggy to bring the Bishop home. So gentle to her father. So tender to the girl. Little did she care for his anguish. He wanted a decision about the press. Now. Today. A decision calling for its destruction. It was the only way.

But none of the Elders liked the idea. They could not even come to a lesser decision among them. His father-in-law had decided to wait and pray over it. Foolish man.

Each Elder had a different idea of what should be done. Things did not look good. Preacher Swartzentruber thought Rachel should keep the press and continue to print her foolish newspaper. Preacher King thought the printing of the newspaper should be given over to a man. The Bishop, clearly torn, did not want to look as if he sided with his daughter. But to give him his due, neither did he wish to make a decision harmful to the people of his district.

Simon sighed. He would like to speak to the Preachers alone. But such a move would be seen as going against his Bishop. He must be careful, if he wished to be Bishop himself one day.

Once his father-in-law and nephew were settled, Simon flicked Gadfly’s reins. At least he had made his point today. Everyone in the district knew Rachel’s failings now. Despite the way things looked after the hearing, she would no longer be so highly valued in the community. Soon perhaps, they would no longer wish to read her newspaper.

Now that Rachel expected a baby, she would not have time for such foolishness as a newspaper. Simon shook his head. A baby. He was not certain how he felt about that now. He’d always wanted children. It was God’s plan that man bring forth children to glorify His name.

But children bothered him sometimes. Even this nephew of his, who sat quietly on the Bishop’s knee, disturbed him. Simon didn’t imagine there was much to raising a boy. Rachel would handle most of it, as was her duty. As father, and head of the house, he would be required to influence and mold a son in his image.

Simon nodded. Put that way, fatherhood sounded agreeable enough.

Perhaps Rachel would want more children. Once Jacob had a wife to give his attention to, Rachel would be free to return to his bed where she belonged. He would give her more babies. Then her time would be limited, and if something happened to the press....

Simon smiled. With a large family to tend, for Rachel to hand copy her paper would be impossible.

When the Bishop cleared his throat, Simon was almost surprised to find him there. The man frowned. “Mrs. Zook is having a bad day. This morning did not help.”

Simon did not understand his exasperation.

“I need to get home quickly,” the Bishop snapped.

With a flick of the reins, Gadfly clip-clopped toward the Zook farm with new vigor.

Simon imagined that Esther would likely care for the boy until the girl got better and Rachel was free to tend both of them again.

At the Zook farm, Bishop Zook got out of the buggy and turned away without as much as a good-day. Simon thought he was rude, then Aaron tugged on his beard. “Wait,” Simon called. “You forgot the boy.”

The Bishop turned with a frown and marched back. “That boy is your nephew. His name is Aaron. Take care of him until his sister is better. Your skill as a husband leaves much to be desired; see if you can learn to be a father before it is too late.”

“My skill ...” Simon stopped, speechless.

“As your Bishop, Deacon Sauder, I remind you we are told to, ‘Preach the gospel always, and if necessary, use words.’ Your actions and words in the past, and especially today, have brought forth pain and bitterness — neither the intent of the gospel. See if you can do better with the task before you. Remember, what you do today, you sleep with tonight.”

Simon sat, stunned for the second time that day. He looked at his nephew. “The least he could have done was invite us to the noon meal.”

The boy looked back wide-eyed. His nephew. His. Smiling. Not alarming at all. Aaron.

Aaron climbed into his lap and took the reins from his hand. “Unkabear?”

Simon put his arm around the boy and pulled him close.

Aaron hugged him hard.

Simon did not know what to make of it. No one, that he could remember, had ever embraced him before.

Uncomfortable, Simon pulled away.

Aaron’s smile, his hands on the reins, said he anticipated learning buggy driving. How long, Simon wondered, since anyone looked at him with trust?

How long before this one turned on him too? He shrugged. No matter. It would happen. Eventually.

What was different about this child, this small person, that he should want his uncle’s company, when most people seemed to dislike him?

Simon frowned, because there was no answer to be had. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Play?”

“I don’t play.”

Aaron giggled. “Yup!” He flicked the reins to get Gadfly going.

And go Gadfly did.

* * * *

Emma lay unmoving in her crib.

“Where’s Aaron,” Jacob asked, looking up from his perusal of Emma’s tummy, with a similar concerned look over his son’s absence.

“Safe,” Rachel replied hanging Emma’s dress and apron over the hook on the wall near her cape and bonnet. “Pop took him home. He said not to worry about Aaron or the farm.”

“Look at her, Mudpie, red as a beet and hot as a bake-oven. So helpless. I don’t know which is worse, when she’s quiet like this or when she’s screaming.” He stroked Emma’s brow. “Does it hurt anywhere Pumpkin? Tell Pa-pop.”

Emma looked pitifully up at him.

Rachel handed Jacob the tea. “See if you can get her to sip this. I’ll go strain the oatmeal. Sweet oatmeal water is good for measles and such.”

“You think that’s what this is?”

Rachel sighed. “I wish I knew.” She bent over the crib-railing to kiss Emma’s cheek. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

“Momly?” Emma whimpered.

“Drink for Pa-pop, will you. I’ll be right back.”

The tear that slipped down the little, parched cheek was like a knife to Rachel’s heart.

Jacob looked up, his face a mask of fear.

“What is it?” Rachel asked.

“I just remembered that Anna was like this, before … before....”

Rachel lowered herself to the chair, her legs shaking too much to hold her.

Jacob stared at her for a minute, his eyes wide with terror, then he took Emma from her crib and held her as if he would never let her go.

“Tell me everything you remember, Jacob.”

“I have only a five-year-old’s memories.”

“Tell me anyway.”

He nodded, almost relieved, and closed his eyes, patting Emma’s back. “Anna cried for long stretches, then she’d get so quiet. All the adults, even me … we waited and watched her, especially when she was quiet, for something to happen.”

Jacob opened his eyes shaking his head. “It went on for hours. She had a rash like this one, though it seemed redder to me. I remember Mom wringing her hands and saying Anna was hotter. That didn’t make sense to me, because it was January, you know.”

Rachel nodded. “What else?”

Tears ran down his face. He kissed Emma’s forehead. “Get better for Pa-pop, will you,” he said. “Oh, Rache,” he sobbed. “Two years I didn’t know them and now....”

He rocked Emma in his arms while he walked. “Anna had … fits. I don’t know. Her whole body started jerking and Mom screamed something awful. I was so scared, I ran out to the barn and hid in the loft. I stayed three, maybe four hours, hardly feeling the cold. Then Datt came to tell me ...” Jacob swallowed. “God took Emma ...” He gasped. “I mean Anna!” He sobbed again, hugging Emma.

“I remember Datt’s exact words,” he said after a long silence. “Jacob,” he said. “God has taken our Anna home to heaven.’”

Soul-deep fear traced Jacob’s features. Rachel stood and put her arms around him.

“Maybe girl twins in this family are not … as strong,” Jacob said. “Maybe....”

Rachel stepped away, her mind working again. “No more warm tea,” she said, feeling a surge of hope. “Anna convulsed from the high fever, so we have to cool her down.
Grossmutter
wrote about it in her remedy book. People used to laugh at her, but she thought cooling a fevered body would bring down the fever. She was a smart woman, Jacob, Grandmother Sarah. I want to try cooling Emma. What do you—”

“Anything, Rache. I’ll try anything. Make Emma better. Please.”

Jacob’s trust frightened her. Lord, please help me live up to such confidence, Rachel prayed. “Bring the copper tub up here, Jacob, and fill it with cool water.” He searched her face for a minute, but he set off to comply.

They gave Emma cool oatmeal-water, instead of warm. Over the next hours, they sponged her with cool water, then wrapped her in blankets against the chill. Still the fever kept rising.

Toward evening, Emma’s eyes began to roll and her body to spasm, so they put her in the tub until her body calmed and she breathed more easily. They kept her there until she shuddered with cold, then they took her out and wrapped her in towels.

Rachel took her to the rocker before the fire.

Jacob knelt before them. “Which is best, do you think? The warmth from the fire, or the cold water?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Jacob put his lips to Emma’s forehead. “She’s cooler. Let’s keep her like this for now. If she starts to … shake … again, we’ll put her back in the water. She stopped shaking when we did it, Rache. It worked.”

His face changed as he seemed to look inward at what must be a grim sight. “I remember hearing during Anna’s funeral that when the spasms finally stopped, she was gone. But Emma is still with us.”

“She’ll be all right, Jacob.”

Hope shone from his eyes. “Promise, Mudpie.” He examined her face for long moments and his hope seemed to fade. “You think this is God’s judgment on us?”

Rachel had wondered, herself, if this was their punishment, and yet … “For what sin of your parents do you think God took Anna?”

Jacob lay his head on her knees, Emma’s hand in his. “Thank you,” he said.

Rachel put her lips to Emma’s forehead, her hand on Jacob’s shoulder, and she prayed.

* * * *

Four more times before midnight, the convulsions wracked Emma. Four more times, they put her in the tub of cool water.

Sometimes Jacob thought the night would never end. Then, fearing what morning might bring, he prayed it never would.

Emma roused around one. After making her thirst known, she drank every drop of oatmeal water. Rachel had to slow her down, she was so greedy. Jacob chuckled at her chubby little fingers grasping the cup when Rachel would take it from her. He thought he’d never seen such a beautiful sight. Her rash was worse, but her fever was lower.

She received the drink so well, Rachel warmed the oatmeal and fed her some. Her hunger gave them further reason to hope.

But before long, she vomited everything in her stomach, over herself and both of them. Rachel washed and changed her and put her in her crib.

“Clean and sweet-smelling again,” Jacob pronounced as he kissed his daughter’s fingers. “And the fever down a bit too.”

Rachel examined her dress, then Jacob’s pants. “At least one of us is sweet-smelling.”

“Go wash up and get into your nightgown. Try to sleep. I’ll call you if I need you, I promise.”

Rachel nodded and left.

Twenty minutes later she came to stand beside him near the crib. “How is she?”

“Better.” He put one arm around her shoulder and brought her close until their foreheads touched. “Thank you.”

“Wasn’t me who did it.”

“Already thanked Him, and considering we haven’t spoken in a while, He must have been surprised. Thought you agreed to sleep.”

“As if I could.”

Rachel’s beauty was as open and natural as her love. An age-softened, tawny wool robe covered her white cotton nightgown, a rebellious ruffle peeking out at the neck. He touched it. “You add that since you moved from Simon’s room?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Ya.”

He shook his head. “Daring.”

She nodded. Kapp off, her curls hung down her back like rich burgundy velvet. Simon’s cruel work, hidden by the thickness of the rest, showed hardly at all now. Still, scars from that night remained in both of them.

Annoyed, Emma murmured Aaron’s name in her sleep.