Jacob's Return (38 page)

Jacob lashed the cribs to the trailer. “I’m relieved, but sorry, I won’t have to say goodbye to Datt again.”

“He’s in the window,” Rachel said. “Wave.”

Jacob waved after he got Rachel and the children settled, but he didn’t look.

Even as he sat reins in hand, Rachel beside him, Emma clutching his jacket, he doubted the wisdom of taking them. He understood his heartfelt need, and theirs, but hated tearing Rachel from a place and home she loved.

“You may as well get going,” Rachel said. “We are ready. We said all our good-byes days ago.”

Jacob sighed heavily. “Ach, Mudpie, but you love this place so.”

“Ach, Jacob. You foolish man. ‘Tis thee I love.”

Emotion overwhelming him, Jacob sat silently for long moments, Rachel’s words filling his head, his heart. Thee I love. “
Ich liebe dich
,”
he said
.

Rachel touched his face. “I love you, too. More than any place or way of life. Your children love you the same.”

“Ach, Rache, what are we going to? What kind of life will we be giving them? I don’t even know. It can be ugly for Plain folks out there in the English world.”

“We could become Quakers.”

Silence rather than smiles came. It was difficult to make jokes in such circumstances.

“You said goodbye to your father?”

Rachel nodded. “Do not be surprised if he is waiting with a shotgun when we pass. Though I think his angry bluster the other night covered more sadness than anything.”

Jacob nodded, understanding. “Esther and Ruben, little Daniel? To all of them you have said goodbye forever, Rache? Are you certain?”

Rachel’s eyes filled. “Last Friday morning, to everyone did I go. even Atlee. He cried more than Esther. Levi’s understanding of my decision was marred by his sadness at our going.”

Jacob cleared his throat. “To everything I have said since the hearing, you turned a deaf ear, Mudpie?”

“To what you did not say,” Rachel said. “To the words in your heart, I listened.”

“I should beat you.”

“All right.”

He shot her a grumpy look. “You could be a little frightened.”

“Never again.”

“God, Rache. Do you know how badly I want to drag you from your home into a hard, brutal world?” He reached for her hand. “It would be so selfish of me, if I did.”

She squeezed his hand. “If you did not take us, I would make my way, babies and all, to find you. We are safer with you. Wherever we are together, Jacob, we are home. Without you, we are lost.”

Datt’s cranky bantam crowed.

“Till dawn, we argued—”

“And chased.”

He smiled. “Argued and chased till dawn. Is this what our life will be like from now on?”

“I hope so. Jacob, dawn is the beginning of a new day, a good time to begin a new life,” Rachel said. “It is fitting, because I want to begin every new day with you, until there are no more days left for me here. And then I want to spend them with you in heaven.”

Jacob shook his head, so torn between leaving her and taking her, he wanted to roar his frustration. “You will not be winning every discussion we ever have,” he promised. “And if the world is the hell I expect it to be, I will bring you back here where you will be safe. Then you will understand it is best for all of you.”

Jacob could tell by Rachel’s smile that she knew she’d won this argument, if argument it were. Fate, more like.

Destiny, he thought it was called.

He shook his head again and flicked the reins. “I wish I could believe taking you is the right thing, no matter what Atlee said.”

Rachel looked curious. “What
did
Atlee say to you? I know he was upset about your decision to leave, and sad beyond belief, because he thought we should be together. But what did he tell you?”

“Wait,” he kept telling me. “Just wait. God will provide. Now you know I used to believe that as much as the next man, but when you’ve angered Him as much as I have—”

“And I—”

He covered her hand. “No. I won’t accept that. But I do worry His anger at me will splash over onto you and the little ones.” He smoothed the curls at Emma’s ear. She lay against him and yawned. “Pa-pop,” she whispered.

“God is never angry with us,” Rachel said. “You must have forgotten that. He may be saddened by our deeds, but He is never angry with
us
.”

Jacob nodded. “If for no other reason, I suppose I must keep you with me to remind me of all I have forgotten.”

“There are other reasons.”

Jacob all but growled. “Those reasons got us into this.”

Rachel laughed, the sound pure and uplifting.

Shaking his head, Jacob flicked the reins. “Yup, Caliope. Let’s go home. Wherever that is.”

* * * *

Reluctant or not, Jacob was taking them and Rachel experienced an elation almost as heady as her fear had been. Dizzy relief assailed her. They left the barn, passed through the yard, then turned onto Buttermilk Hill Road. Life beckoned.

A life together, for her and Jacob and their small family.

Buggy wheels on gravel behind them got her attention, and she looked back, but she could not believe her eyes.

Jacob pulled over and Rachel feared he’d changed his mind. “Why are you stopping?”

“There’s someone behind us. It’s slow going with all this—”

Levi, marketbuggy piled high with possessions, pulled beside them. “Nice morning to go flittin,” he said. “Do we know where we’re going?”

Jacob lowered his head — in shock or thanksgiving, either or both. His shoulders tensed, relaxed. When he gazed at his father finally, his wet-eyed gaze expressed hope. And disbelief. “Datt.”

“You’re not leaving this old man behind. I plan to watch those babies grow up.”

“Ah, Datt,” Jacob said blinking.

“I’ll lead,” Levi said. “I need to drop off the papers for the farm at your father’s, Rachel. It’ll give you a chance for a last goodbye. I know you’d like that.”

Like it and hate it, she thought nodding, filled with a renewed pain for leaving Pop and Esther.

Levi moved ahead and waved them on.

They passed the cemetery at a slow canter. In their hearts, Rachel knew they were all saying their last farewells.

When her Pop’s farm came into view, Rachel shivered. She could do this, she could. She must, because if she did not remain strong, she was afraid Jacob would turn around and take her back.

Levi stopped his buggy, but did not alight.

Rachel examined every window for a glimpse of Es or Pop. But no one looked back. The clapboards on the house were whitewashed, the garden neatly rowed and swelling with abundance, the farm buildings orderly and well kept.

The barn had been her playground. She loved it most.

As if responding to her thoughts, an unseen hand threw the barn doors wide, the yawning doorway making the barn smile. Sunlight glinting on the upper windows made it wink.

A goodbye to cherish.

Movement altered the barn’s smile.

A horse. Moving. Something behind it. Pop. Driving his marketbuggy, two trunks and mom’s favorite painted cabinet lashed to the back.

Rachel straightened. Oh. Oh.

Ruben, Esther at his side with little Daniel, drove their buggy out next, attached trailer following.

Atlee came trotting after them, his smile so wide, Rachel imagined him as a young man. She hadn’t seen such a spring in his step since he was eighty, and she laughed.

Totally bewildered, Jacob took Emma. “Go.”

Rachel jumped down and ran. Her Pop enveloped her in a hug, then swung her in a wide circle, his hearty laugh bringing her great gulping sobs. Did her eyes confirm what her heart desperately hoped was true?

Her father held her close. “Ach, Rachel mine, don’t cry. Do you think we could let you go from us forever? A weak Bishop I am who cannot shun his own daughter, no, nor lose her, either.”

“A Bishop with a heart,” she said against his ear.

Esther hugged them both. “We’re coming with you.”

“We don’t even know where we’re going.” Rachel straightened her father’s hat. “Blind faith, Pop?”

“You’re going to Winesburg, Ohio,” Esther said. “We all are.”

“We are?” Rachel looked toward Jacob near their buggy, waiting, unsure, Emma wrapped around his leg, Anna and Mary in his arms, and Aaron leaning sleepy-eyed against him.

Rachel giggled and her heart expanded.

Love, it was called.

“What if I had not caught up to him this morning?” Rachel asked, lightheaded for their close call.

“I was prepared to stop him when he passed here,” Ruben said. He feigned a loud yawn. “I have not slept in two days for watching.”

Esther laughed.

Levi squeezed Rachel’s arm. “And I was prepared to bring you here. My Jacob, you know, is too stubborn just to be told. We knew he would need to step into hell for a while before he would see reason.

“When he didn’t go before today, we knew we would leave this morning,” her Pop said. “So here we are. Jacob looks like he’s worried we’re taking you back.”

“Because you made it clear he would not be welcome as your son-in-law,” Rachel said.

“Guess I need to be forgiven,” he said.

“Forgiveness is a good thing,” Rachel said, kissing him on the cheek.

“Beginning again is too,” her father said. “Let’s go tell him.”

As they approached, Jacob’s expression, part naughty little boy, part confused little boy, made Rachel love him more.

“We’re going to Winesburg, Ohio, Jacob,” Rachel said, taking Anna from him and drawing Emma too.

“What are you talking about?”

Ruben slapped him on the back. “Atlee found us a new community. They call themselves the Bontranger Amish after their leader, Zeb Bontranger. They are expecting us. Seems they have broken with their strict Amish neighbors and have brought along a good share of Amish sinners who wish to begin again. Atlee says they believe in repentance, more than shunning, and are committed to looking ahead, rather than back. Should take four, maybe five days to get there. They have even given us directions to friends’ and relatives’ homes where we will be welcomed along the way.”

Jacob shook his head, as if this was too much to comprehend. “Amish,” he said. “Together?”

Rachel nodded, tears blurring his dear face, then Ruben took Anna from her and gave her back to Jacob, took Rachel by the hand and walked her to his trailer. He knocked on the oilcloth covered mountain tied to the back and threw the cloth off. “Built it myself,” he said. “Not a real Gutenberg, but—”

“Never was a Gutenberg,” Atlee said.

Everybody looked at him as if he’d grown horns.

He patted it. “Just like mine, just like a Gutenberg.”

Rachel was the first to laugh.

Jacob shook his head. “Those press parts would not have fit.”

Ruben slapped Atlee on the back. “Old coot!” He turned to Rachel, still shaking his head. “In Winesburg, there is a farm waiting for us, with an old sawmill building for the press. They need a newspaper, Rachel.”

“And a Bishop,” her father said. “A Bishop with a heart.”

Rachel covered her face with her hands.

Esther took her into her arms and together they shed tears of joy.

The men, Jacob’s look stunned, joyful, waited indulgently.

Atlee stood by Rachel, hat in hand, like a little boy waiting for a pat on his head. He cleared his throat.

Rachel let go of Esther, took his hand and smiled. “Oh, Atlee.” This strong-willed patriarch had been there for them all their lives. He would be the greatest loss in leaving the Valley.

“For you, Mudpie, did I do this, already. For your care of me last winter. And for your babies,” he said, turning to Jacob. Her Jacob, standing beside her, children climbing on, and hanging off him, kissing and hugging them and shouting with laughter.

“You will never have to leave them,” Rachel told Jacob.

“Or you,” Jacob said, pulling her close. “I will never have to leave you again.”

Atlee swatted Jacob’s arm. “As should be. Your hide I should paddle. Did I not say, ‘Wait, God will provide,’ already? But did you wait?”

Jacob took the scold he deserved quite well, Rachel thought. She hugged Atlee hard, his bony frame reminding her he would soon walk with God. She kissed his parchment cheek. God had a treat in store.

The bent, white-haired man blushed. “Sell your farms, I will,” he said. “And send you the money, less my fee, already.” He cackled and slapped his knee. “A fee for the taking care of. It makes a good bargain, aint?”

They were still smiling as they climbed into their buggies. Memories of Atlee would accompany them, even if he could not. Their caravan set off, four buggies in a row, precious futures before them. The Sauders, Zooks, and Millers were flittin.

Rachel was happier than she had ever been.

When they got close to the Yoder farm, four-year-old Abby Yoder sat on a rock by the side of the road waving them down.

Jacob stopped the buggy.

The little girl came forward, offering a wrapped parcel. “Grossmommie’s corncakes for your journey,” Abby said with a shy smile. “Godspeed.”

Jacob regarded the parcel. “Annie and Saul Yoder just said goodbye.”

“I know,” Rachel whispered.

Junior Adam Stoltzfus, Great-
Grossdaudy
Weingardt, and little Jake Yost waited at the Beaver Dam crossroads where their farms met.

Rachel squeezed Jacob’s arm and he pulled the buggy to a stop.

Adam silently gave them a cloth-wrapped sausage. Weingardt pushed a jug of tea into Jacob’s hand with a mumbled blessing. Little Jake came around to Rachel’s side and handed her a cloth embroidered with a likeness of the valley. “Just for pretty,” he said. “And to remember.”

Jacob cleared his throat as they set off again. “Our friends have sent their young ones, who don’t break the ban by speaking to us, to say goodbye for them.”

“Weingardt’s not so young,” Rachel said. “Ninety, maybe.”

Jacob smiled. “Stubborn, that one. Always breaking the rules.”

“Like us,” Rachel said.