Lilly's Wedding Quilt (20 page)
Lilly grimaced a bit as she turned the tender ham slices. “We must go—I’d love it, but I don’t know if my mother will come or not.”
“Do you mind leaving her for a bit at the holiday?”
“
Nee
, she’ll be fine. And, like I said, the bishop makes sure people always drop over, but I suppose more will come today because of us—
Mamm
just won’t answer the door if she’s not feeling up to visitors.” She brought the rest of the food to the table and surveyed the settings. “There—would you like to eat?
Mamm
will probably be up later and take something in her room.”
He came to the table and then bolted through his food so fast that she’d barely had the chance to begin on her eggs. He rose and took his plate to the sink, rinsing it, then depositing it on the counter.
“I have the outside chores to do—the horses and the firewood. You needn’t worry anymore about those things. I’ll be back in a bit.” And he was gone out the kitchen door with his coat half on and his scarf trailing loosely about his neck, dangling to his lean waist. As her eyes filled with unshed tears, she noticed he’d even left his hat behind.
J
acob walked rapidly to the haven of the barn and slid the door closed behind him as though he were being pursued. The horses nickered in greeting, but he couldn’t think straight enough to respond. Instead he leaned his back against the support of the wooden door and closed his eyes.
His head swam with half-worded prayers. He’d asked for
Derr Herr’s
help to choose to love his wife and then he’d called out for Sarah—on his wedding night. He tried again to grasp the dream, to rally his subconscious into some kind of obedience. But he couldn’t remember, and Lilly had said she couldn’t forget.
He expelled a breath of surrender. What had she said about his will? It was not his will that could work in all of this, but the Lord’s.
He opened Buttercup’s stall and greeted her with the back of his curled hand. Then he touched her gently on her withers. And she yielded to his touch. His
gentle
touch.
Yield
. He needed to learn how to yield to the Lord in the same way his horses learned to yield to the touch of his fingers—even those secret parts of his mind that seemed so far out of reach. Even his dreams needed to fall into the trust of the Lord.
D
espite how the day began, Lilly was having more fun than she could remember in years. She and Jacob were at the Wyse home for Christmas Eve supper. Mr. and Mrs. Stolis had been some of the many guests she’d received at her own home during the day, but they’d also offered to stay with her mother a bit, who actually seemed like she was up to having visitors. Lilly didn’t ponder this shift in her
mamm’s
moods; she’d grown used to their unpredictability. But she considered every moment of the time at her new in-laws’ a blessing and smiled with determined warmth at Jacob when he glanced up from a chattering Kate Zook. He returned the look and she chose to interpret the intensity in his gaze as goodwill. Then she found herself in the cheerful embrace of her brother-in-law.
“Having a
gut
time?” Seth asked, dropping his arms about her waist.
“Ach, jah
.” She smiled up into his handsome face, thinking to herself once more how different the two brothers were—like light and darkness.
She leaned close to Seth and whispered low. “I loved the painting.
Danki
.”
“Ah, my secret’s out.”
She shook her head. “I’d never tell anyone, but I would love to see more of your work.”
“Would you?” he asked with a smile.
She nodded with sincerity and he caught her hand. “Then come with me, sweet
schweschder
, and I’ll be glad to indulge you— away from this crowd.”
She followed happily as Seth led her upstairs.
“I’ve been working on something a bit different. It’s for Jacob’s birthday. The motion is difficult to get right.” He flung open a door and she entered the room, clearly seeing that it was more of an art studio than a bedroom, with paints, brushes, canvases, and tools in great abundance. He turned up a lamp, then held it before an easel. She gasped with pleasure at the half-formed image of a herd of horses running free across a vast plain.
“
Ach
, Seth! It’s beautiful. It’s like they’re running toward me. I can hear their hoofbeats. You’ve been blessed with such talent.”
He smiled with obvious pleasure. “
Danki
. I haven’t been sure of this one.”
“Jacob will love it. But, tell me please, when is his birthday?”
Seth set the lamp on a table. “Not until February—Valentine’s Day, in fact.”
I should have remembered
, she thought. she’d once sketched him a valentine when they were in school but had never had the courage to give it to him. It had ended up in the waste bin. She glanced back at the painting.
“Seth, I know you don’t want anyone to know about your talent, but it would be so wonderful if you’d teach a class on art, maybe to the schoolchildren?”
He held up paint-stained hands. “Whoa, little
schweschder
. That is not my kind of doings.
Kinner
scare me. I never know what they’re going to do.”
She laughed. It was so easy to be with him, so simple and comforting. With Jacob, she always felt like she was walking blindfolded, always taking a misstep with him.
“What are you thinking?”
She lifted her shoulders. “Just how different you and Jacob are.”
“Are we?”
“Surely.”
She watched him run an absent finger around the rim of a paint container.
“How?”
“What?” she asked.
“How are we different?”
“Well, you’re fun and cheerful, but you’ve got this whole other serious side to you in your art. And Jacob—Jacob’s like a storm, unpredictable, moving. I guess you’d know even better than me.”
“I know my brother; he’s part of my heart. But he can be distant as the
munn
. Sometimes too far away to touch.”
“
Jah
,” she agreed, her smile tight.
“But touch matters.”
His tone was level but she felt drawn by his words. It was as if he understood the struggles she had—her insecurities and her fears about whether she’d ever truly be able to be close to her husband.
But there was something else—a flash of intensity in his blue eyes—as he half turned from her.
She stepped closer to him, laying a hand on his white sleeve. “Seth?”
He drew a deep breath. “Don’t listen to me, Lilly. I think I’m half crazy. I love my brother.”
“Of course you do,” she soothed, watching him swallow, the strong line of his throat tan against his white collar.
“Of course I do. But he can be hurtful sometimes. Even if he doesn’t mean it.”
She sighed. “Well,
jah
, I guess you’re right about that.”
“Has he hurt you, Lilly?”
She had to turn away from him and blink at the sudden tears that filled her eyes, but she shook her head.
“Nee
.”
She felt him touch her shoulders gently. “Lilly?”
She wanted to turn at the tenderness in his voice, to press herself against him and cry for what she was—insecure, wounded, and second-best. But to allow herself even that comfort would be disloyal to Jacob, so she stood, frozen.
His hand stroked the length of her back, tangible warmth she could feel and trust.
“
Ach
, Seth,” she whispered in misery.
He moved, quick and fluid, to encircle her with his long arms and to press her against his chest. She heard his heartbeat and smelled the fresh cotton of his shirt as he reached his hand to find and soothe the tenseness at the back of her neck.
“I thought I could do it,” she sobbed after a moment.
“Do what?”
She felt him begin to rock her in his arms, his dark clad legs steady and sure.
“To accept it … you know? That Sarah was … is … his first love. But I can’t. He warned me the night of the engagement that it would be hard, but I didn’t listen and now—” She lifted her tearstained face to look at him and he bent his head to brush his mouth against her cheek.
“Shhh … Lilly, don’t. Don’t do this to yourself.”
She swallowed, feeling foolish that she’d been so happy one minute and had now turned into a watering pot. “I’m sorry, Seth.” She sniffed and would have drawn back when Jacob’s voice arrested her from the doorway.
“
Hiya
. Do I interrupt?”
J
acob watched his brother holding his wife with a detached fury that surprised him in its intensity. He leaned against the doorjamb and spoke in a soft voice.
“Seth, I ought to whip your back raw for this. Go downstairs. Now.”
“She needed comfort, Jacob. Something you’re not willing to give.”
“You’ve got about five seconds.”
Seth slid his arms from around Lilly with visible reluctance. “Fine. You work this out, Jacob—if you can.” He brushed past and Jacob had to restrain himself from laying hands on him.
He closed the door quietly, then turned to face her. She didn’t look guilty, only sad, and he felt a renewed stab of self-recrimination and anger that he couldn’t give her the easy comfort that Seth could. Then his prayers came back to him, and he felt
Derr Herr
speak deep inside.
Choose. Decide. Decide to give
.
He pushed off the wood of the door and came to stand in front of her. She had her arms crossed protectively against her chest and her blue eyes swam with tears.
He drew a deep breath. “My brother can gain anyone’s admiration; he’s quick-witted, even-tempered, talented—but, sometimes, in a way, he makes me feel like an old man. I’ve always thought that I had to be stronger, more cautious, and more serious—to protect him somehow.”
He reached out to thumb away a stray tear that spilled down her cheek.
“I don’t want to be all those things with you, Lilly. I want to be alive, to breathe, to be real.” He trailed his hand down to rub the fine bones of her wrist, her tears dampening her soft skin. “Oh, Lilly … what was it your primer said? Touch?” He drew his finger across her stiff arms, then back up to trace the gentle curve of her shoulder. He stepped closer, thankful that she didn’t retreat.
He used the back of his hand to cross her damp cheek, feather across her brows, then come back again to test the delicate bones of her arms.
He thought how small and refined she seemed for all of her slender height. She was a lady in so many ways, and she would, of course, be drawn to culture like Seth’s art. He broke off the thought and gently reached both arms around her, not holding—waiting.
“I’m not Seth, Lilly. But I can give,” he whispered.
He watched the indecision in her eyes, the haunting drift between his betrayal and her want. Then she spoke clearly and broke the circle of his arms.
“And I’m not Sarah, Jacob.”
She wiped her sleeve across her eyes and made for the door, the sound of her footsteps echoing in his mind like stones thrown far away.
S
he hadn’t taken more than five steps into the hall when she felt her heart convict her for crying out to Seth, and not God—nor to Jacob. She remembered the quilting vision she’d had the night of the engagement and thought how far she’d drifted from that message in her life. And she knew she was trying to get away from that message when a dark part of herself began to whisper that she’d not even had a wedding quilting. Her feet found the top of the stairs of their own accord and she gripped the carved banister. What did a wedding quilt matter? What did it prove? That she was legitimately married? Well, she knew she was, and she’d just dishonored her husband with his own brother, no matter what her intent. The Lord had given her the idea to work to create something in life with Jacob. She felt like running back to the room and letting him hold her, but she couldn’t. Not when she remembered his hoarse cry of Sarah’s name and her resolve. She prayed that God would help her release her insecurity and found herself at the bottom of the steps.
