Jacob's Return (24 page)

Yes, a first. But no first married kiss, no tentative touch, no fingertip to the cheek … not even a kind word. Instead, she’d had her first glimpse of the man she married, not the one feigned during courtship. And his manner had not wavered from that day … until the day after her hearing over her newspaper.

Did Simon care so much about what others thought, that if they approved of her so openly, then he would too?

Only one thing Rachel knew for certain, her husband had never offered to take a sin of hers to bear as his own. Nor would he. She sighed and chided herself for her selfish thoughts on such a happy day, and turned her attention to the celebration.

When she did, Jacob was beside her, at the top of the enclosed stairway, waiting patiently for her to look at him.

“If we were in that room, I would do this,” he whispered, placing his lips against hers in the softest, most tender kiss she had ever experienced.

When Esther and Ruben came to stand behind her and Jacob, Esther’s cheeks were rosy, and Ruben’s smile wide, but no more than hers must be, Rachel thought, just as her father opened the door at the bottom of the stairs to call them down.

At their places, Ruben and Esther exclaimed over the beautiful plates, bowls, and dishes on their table, all filled with fancy desserts and treats. A wine flask held cider, matching goblets beside it. The food was to be eaten during the wedding celebration, the dishes their wedding gifts.

The
Schnutzler
carved the turkey for the
Eck
, the corner table where the bridal party sat, and saw them well served.

“Do you know,” Ruben said. “We are eating five turkeys, twelve ducks, twenty chickens, forty loaves of bread, two bushels of potatoes and two of celery. Not to mention pies and cakes.”

Jacob chuckled. “And how do you know this, Ruben?”

“I was up until two this morning preparing it!”

Esther’s laughter rang out, and Rachel smiled to hear her sister happy again.

“Not bad,” Jacob said. “For a man who could not make coffee, or find his coffee pot, some months ago.”

“Ya. I’m
goot
.
Nein
?”

“
Nein
,” Esther said, patting his cheek.

Ruben’s smile turned to a frown when he understood the insult, then he raised a brow. “Tonight, I will show you, then you will know.” And Esther’s blush seemed to satisfy him.

It took three sittings for everyone to eat, but the bridal party remained seated throughout.

When people finished eating, they brought out their song books, the
Lieder Sammlungen
, to take turns serenading the couple. But Ruben and Esther must only listen; it would be considered a bad omen if they sang too.

Disregarding Simon’s frown, Rachel sang to her heart’s content. The songs — hymns really, though not so solemn as at service — kept a happy, quick pace when heartily sung.

Ruben and Esther sent sweets from their table to special friends, or to the singers. Every time Daniel let out a yell, they sent something to Fannie.

“Do you think she’s pinching the boy?” Ruben asked. “So she can taste everything?”

After a while, the young people went to play games in the barn.
Skip to Ma Lou
,
There Goes Topsy Through the Window,
and
Little Red Wagon Painted Blue
, were favorites. They allowed for hand-holding and partner-swinging, but not for dancing, which was frowned upon.

After supper, the final song, the
Guter Geselle
, the Good Friend, was sung, and Rachel hated to see the wonderful day end.

Emma cried for having to leave Daniel behind, then finally, she and Aaron were sleeping soundly in the back of the buggy.

Simon had left about two hours earlier than she and Jacob, when most of the adults had left, and Fannie had put Daniel, Emma and Aaron to bed upstairs and went home too.

Most of the younger, unmarried, guests stayed until midnight. As attendants, she and Jacob stayed with Esther and Ruben, who could not go to bed until their guests left.

Ruben had grumbled, on and off, for the remaining two hours, about those thoughtless youngsters, making Esther laugh.

Rachel did not think she had ever seen her sister laugh so much. Daniel, her first husband, was a good man, but quiet. Ruben was anything but.

“A good day,” Rachel said, as Caliope trotted before their buggy at a slow, soothing pace, the late November night crisp, but not cold. “You’re quiet, Jacob.”

“Look at the stars, Mudpie, there are millions of them, and they are all ours tonight.” His hand sought hers and she took it. Just for a minute, she thought. It would hurt no one if they touched for a minute.

“They’re happy,” she said.

“I am happy for them.”

“Yes.” Quiet times she and Jacob shared, like these, often the most comfortable, restful moments of her day, Rachel treasured. She was especially grateful for this time, now.

“Your condition is beginning to show. You look more beautiful than ever,” Jacob said.

“He is kicking.”

Jacob looked at her, his eyes wide. “Now?”

Understanding his longing, probably because he missed this with Aaron and Emma, Rachel raised their clasped hands and flattened them over her abdomen.

When the baby moved, he smiled. “He is all arms and legs and happy energy. He has enjoyed the day too.”

She stopped herself from saying more than she should and nodded. “We are nearly home,” she said.

Jacob understood Rachel’s warning, and moved his hand back to the reigns. He stopped the carriage by the front door, so he could carry Aaron inside and help Rachel put the twins to bed. “I’ll go settle Caliope now. Thank you for a lovely day.”

He watched Rachel go to her room before he went out to drive the buggy to the barn. Tonight, two needs warred within him — one, to free Rachel from Simon; the other, to free her from himself.

Jacob only wished he could be certain which freedom was best.

Today he’d tried to set her free from her guilt, but without success, he suspected.

As he brushed Caliope down, Jacob worried that his need to free Rachel from a husband who did not cherish her was more selfish than anything. Simon did seem more caring lately. Jacob wanted to believe it would last. Besides, to free her from her husband, of all people, did not count among his rights.

Only one freedom was his to grant — the freedom from himself. And would that be good for Rachel?

To leave her, to take his babies away from her, from Datt, would hurt Emma and Aaron; it would hurt them all. Especially him.

Leaving her would destroy him. But he, more than anyone, did not matter.

It was Rachel who did. What would be best for her?

Jacob filled a bucket with oats and extra molasses and left Caliope to enjoy her late supper. As he picked up the lantern, he noticed slats from the lambing pen on the floor. Aaron’s Pokey was missing.

A crash turned Jacob on his heel. “
Mein Gott
, do you animals have something against the press? One would think Simon had paid you to....”

His words hung in the air.

Oh, it could not be.

But two animals damaging the press? Different animals at different times? And at such particular times?

The first accident had followed upon the heels of Simon learning he and Esther would not marry. The second accident, now, tonight, after Esther’s marriage to Ruben, to someone other than himself … him and Rachel spending the day together so openly, so happily.

The more he thought about it, it seemed less and less like the animals, and more and more like … a child’s tantrum at not getting what he wanted. More like revenge. Hate.

A strong word, hate.

Did Simon’s emotions run so deep then? And where was this hate of his directed? Toward the press, toward the brother his wife would have married if not for his interference, or toward Rachel, herself?

Jacob held the lantern higher. Pokey had stepped into a splash of lead letters and splintered wood. The sheared, broken armature lay on the ground.

How could a little lamb cause such damage? Jacob lifted the piece, ran his hand along the turned, thick oak. Snapped clean. On purpose? Oak? Solid, hard, sturdy … by a lamb?

Should he tell Rachel what he found and allow her to think the animal caused it? Should he tell her his suspicions? Or allow her to come to her own conclusions?

He could be wrong. He should at least give his own brother the benefit of the doubt. Datt would be so hurt if … One thing for certain. His leaving at this point, might not set Rachel free; it might place her in danger.

If Simon’s anger ran this deep, if he transferred his ire to the press because he could no longer hurt Rachel, then she needed looking after, both her and the baby.

In six weeks, the most holy season of the year would be upon them. He would stay at least for Christmas and Second Christmas. It would be Emma’s and Aaron’s first with the family.

Jacob hoped it would not be their last.

Chapter 15

Jacob was pleased Rachel intended to keep alive the Christmas traditions his mother had started.

When he saw her preparing Mom’s secret recipe fruitcake, his mother seemed close again, his anger over her death, less sharp.

Jacob laughed when Rachel admitted his mother had taught her the recipe fourteen years before, when she was only eight, and still Mom had always called it a ‘secret’ recipe. When Rachel said she would teach Emma to make it when she was eight, Jacob hoped, with all his heart, that she would have the chance.

Mom’s fruitcakes — tied up in white muslin cloths like a bad case of toothache, mellowing in blue-rimmed crocks in the summer kitchen the whole month before — had always been the first sign of the season for Jacob, and this year was no exception. Most would be given to friends to symbolize the gifts of the wise men, but one or two would be theirs to savor.

For the past two weeks, the women had been going from house to house to make their favorite Christmas treats together,
Springerlies, Pfeffernussen Kuchen
and Tangled Jackets
.

In a little while, Fannie, Priscilla and Esther would come to help Rachel bake, and new Christmas memories would arrive upon the wings of frosted gingerbread angels smelling of anise, nutmeg or peppermint. Lively Pennsylvania Dutch chatter — everyone speaking at once, yet understanding everything said — would complete the tradition.

Jacob daringly suggested that Rachel make some of Mom’s souse, because pig’s feet jelly on toast seemed to belong to Christmas morning. After her swat over the work he was giving her, he went out to milk.

“It snows, it snows,” Fannie said as she stomped her shoes on the rag rug at the kitchen door. Over one arm she carried a basket of walnuts from her Pop’s trees. “Ach, Rache. Wide as a barn, you are.
Mein Gott
. That’s some big baby you got there.”

“Just what a woman likes to hear,” Rachel said. “A barn, Fannie?”

Fannie looked embarrassed, but Rachel laughed.

“
Siss am schneea
, It’s snowing,” Esther said as she deposited two-month-old Daniel in Rachel’s arms and began to unwind the tawny wool blanket their mother had knitted twenty years before, from around him. And suddenly the formless bundle with tiny blue eyes peeping out, became a wiggling angel happy to be free.

Ruben stepped into the room, missed the rug entirely, and stomped his shoes on the floor to get the snow off. “
Iss kalt
. Brr,” he said as he carried Daniel’s cradle into the toasty kitchen and set it near the quilt where Aaron and Emma played. Then he curled his finger in a come-along way, to draw the twins from their quilt and nearer to him, and when they stood side by side looking up expectantly, he removed his hat and shook snow all over them.

Delightful shrieks turned to downright giggling as the twins tried to get the snow off before it turned to cold water and trickled down their necks.

Esther shook her head. “Two little boys I got.”

But Rachel didn’t think Es minded a bit. A sparkle lit her sister’s eyes these days, one Rachel had never seen before, not even when Es became Daniel’s bride.

Ruben walked over and kissed Es’s cheek, his face ruddy with embarrassment, then he turned to leave after doing the same with Daniel and the twins. “Back in time for supper,” he said as he went out the door.

“Always in time to eat,” Esther said, which started them all on stories of men and mealtimes.

With so much to cook and bake, they even used the cavernous fireplace where cooking used to be done before Levi bought his wife a fancy new coal-burning stove. Hands to her back, pushing her belly out, Rachel straightened after placing a cake in the low brick oven.” Ach, poor Hannah, leaning over like this to cook all day for years; no wonder she was bent with age.

The four women, despite one baby and two toddlers, moved in harmony. Batter got mixed and baked. Cookies got cut and decorated, and spoons were licked by Aaron and Emma, and sometimes by Rachel, who for some reason, found the taste of everything wonderful this year.

Luscious chocolate fudge poured into greased pans to cool and set, made mouths water. Aaron dipped a finger in for an early taste, then got his burned finger plunged into a bowl of cold water and covered with butter.

Later, Simon came in and snatched a fresh-cut piece of fudge. Without thinking, Rachel smacked his hand with the back of a wooden spoon, and while her heart pounded with fear, he retaliated by kissing her cheek.

Her face flamed. That was the most playful thing Simon had ever done. And in front of everyone!

Maybe he really was changing.

Before he left, he grabbed her hand-slapping spoon and held it in the air out of her reach. And she laughed.

Simon made her laugh!

He snatched three more pieces of fudge then, handed one each to the twins, and popped the last into his mouth. With a wink and a tip of his hat to the ladies, he went back outside.