Romancing Olive (27 page)

* * *

Mary looked suspiciously at Olive when she saw her Aunt’s red and puffy eyes. “What did Jacob want this morning?”

Olive turned hurriedly from the child’s knowing look. “Nothing.”

“He sure was duded up for nothing then.” Mary waited a while and watched Olive scrub dishes furiously at the sink. “What did he want?”

Olive flew past the child to the cupboard never meeting her eye. “I don’t think what Jacob and I discussed is appropriate subject matter for you, that’s all.”

“I thought we were a family now. Talked about everything. I guess not.”

Olive looked at Mary with stricken eyes. “We are a family, Mary. You and John and I.”

Mary stared hard at Olive until she turned away. Olive busied herself at the sink hoping Mary would concede and leave the room. But she never felt or heard the girl exit. Olive’s hands clutched the edge of the sink and she stared out the window as her shoulders dropped. “Jacob asked me to marry him today. I declined.”

Mary whistled softly. “Why?”

Olive’s head tilted. “He doesn’t love me.”

“So?”

“Mary,” Olive said and turned from the sink. “I can’t marry a man that doesn’t love me. I couldn’t live with myself. We all need our pride.”

“What do you mean ‘pride’?” Mary asked.

Olive seated herself across the table from her niece. “Respect for ourselves, Mary. I am worthy of having a man, a husband love me. I deserve it.”

“Do you love him?” the girl asked.

Olive nodded. “Yes, I do.”

Mary sat back in her chair with questions. “So you love him but you won’t marry him because he doesn’t love you.”

Olive looked out the window, chin in her hand and sat quietly with Mary. The girl rose, went to the door and turned back. “Don’t worry Aunt Olive. You’re better off without him. You’ll see.”

* * *

The weeks rolled by as August turned to September. The air was heavy, the ground dry and the nights warm. Olive sewed, read to Mary and John, and missed Jacob and his family. Having rejected him, she lost his children as well and many days she found herself preoccupied with what they were doing while their father brought in the crops. Beth stopped by one afternoon with Bess and Jack Jr. and Olive was thrilled for the company and curious about Jacob.

“How are you Olive?” Beth asked when the children had ventured outside.

“I’m fine. The children keep me busy. It is different than life back on Church Street. There were always neighbors on their porch and I talked to people at the library. It can be very quiet here.”

“You mean lonely?” Beth asked.

Olive smiled. “Sometimes.” She hemmed and hawed, but finally asked Beth what she was aching to know. “Have you seen Jacob and the children?”

“A little. This is a busy time of the year.”

Olive swallowed. “How is he? How are the children?”

Beth shook her head. “Miserable. And as far as I’m concerned he deserves it.”

Olive looked down at her hands. “I never wanted to hurt him.”

“Do you know what he told Jack?” Beth fumed.

“No,” Olive said and shook her head.

“He couldn’t love you because if you died he couldn’t take it.” Beth sat back in her chair and continued, “As if he doesn’t love you. Just because he won’t say it doesn’t mean it isn’t so.”

“He thinks I’m going to die?” Olive asked.

“He’s afraid something will happen to you. Like Margaret. You and I both know Olive, there are no guarantees in this world.”

Olive sighed deeply. She had been afraid of this. It wasn’t as though Jacob may grow to love her in time as she had hoped. He was afraid to love. They chatted awhile longer but Olive was preoccupied with what Beth had told her and only half listened.

“Come by early Saturday, then. Flo will be there. Bring anything you can from the garden and we’ll teach you to can,” Beth said as she settled herself in the wagon seat.

“Alright, Beth. I’ll be there,” Olive replied.

Chapter Eleven

Mary and John were excited to see other children and escape the boredom of the house. They piled their small collection of produce in the wagon and set off early before the heat of the day was oppressive. Olive peeled more vegetables than she thought was humanly possible and by noontime she and Flo and Beth were dripping in the sweltering kitchen. Over the stove, boiling jars and lids and beets and tomatoes, the three women labored. But the time passed quickly with company and female chatter. The children played in the creek and Olive envied them.

“Come on Ma. Come see the toad that Mary caught,” Jack Jr. shouted through the door.

The woman decided a walk out of the hot kitchen was deserved and wound through the trees in the cooler air until they came to the stream. The children were huddled around Mary in the middle of the low water.

“Come see,” Flo’s daughter Sue said.

Flo plopped down on the moss and undid her shoes. As she rolled her thick stockings down over her legs, she looked up to Beth and Olive. “Nobody’s around. I’m cooling off.”

Beth and Olive exchanged glances and promptly stripped their shoes and stockings as well. Olive held her skirt up and stood in the moving water. “This is heaven,” she called to the other women.

“Well, this is a sight to behold,” a masculine voice from the bank called. The three women’s head snapped around to see Jack, Bill and Jacob, holding Mark at the edge of the water.

Jacob and Olive’s eyes met for the first time since the day of the proposal. Olive’s breath caught on a hitch, and although Jacob’s masculine presence compelled her, she knew she wanted his heart. He looked away and Olive heard Peg and Luke call to her.  The children, barefoot already, raced to her through the water.

“Aunt Olive,” Peg cried and clung to her skirts.

Luke attached himself to her other side and she knew then how sorely she missed these children. Peg showed her a skinned knee and Luke told her he hadn’t been sleeping so well. She kissed their heads and pulled the children to the edge of the water. “Let me hold Mark, Jacob.”

Their hands touched with the passing child and their eyes met yet again. Olive looked away first to coo and cuddle the infant. He turned into her and sighed. Luke and Peg were soon playing with the other children in the creek and Olive reached down for her shoes.

“I’ll get them, Olive,” Jacob said.

“Thank you,” she said and looked up to him. The other adults drifted away to the house and they stood staring at each other. “I know things are awkward between us, Jacob. But please bring the children by. I miss them desperately.”

Jacob nodded. “They miss you. I do too.”

Olive’s lashes dropped. “I miss you as well, Jacob.” As they walked slowly through the trees, Olive felt at peace and whole with Jacob near. She donned a brave face knowing that completeness would be gone with their parting.

Peg and Luke sat on her lap or hung on her skirts through the casual, stand-up supper, Beth had prepared. Jacob stayed to the other end of the kitchen, showing John how to whittle. Olive caught herself staring at the only man she knew she would ever love. When their eyes met, Jacob turned quickly away, obviously uncomfortable with their proximity. Olive swallowed the pain of the insult and wondered if she would regret telling Jacob she loved him.

Luke whispered in her ear as the men went to ready the wagons. “Daddy told me that you love us but you won’t marry us ‘cause he doesn’t love you.”

Olive’s eyes widened. She pulled Luke into her lap and leaned close to his ear. “Your Daddy’s right. I love you all very much.”

“I showed Daddy my special pillow. It made him sad. I think he misses Momma too much.”

“I think you’re right,” Olive said and gripped the boy tighter as he relaxed against her.

“Aunt Olive?” Luke said as he played with the buttons on Olive’s blouse.

“Yes, Luke?” she said and smiled and turned her head to face him.

“I love you.”

“Oh, Luke, I love you and your sister and brother very much.”

“Daddy, too?”

Olive’s eyes closed. “Yes, Luke. I love your father, too.”

* * *

Jacob watched Olive whisper to Luke as he stood at the door. She looked as beautiful today as Jacob had ever seen her. Even soaked with sweat and red-faced, Olive appealed to him on every level. Her hair had clung to her face in the heat of the kitchen and now curled in ringlets around her face. When Jack had told a silly story about Reverend McGrath, Olive’s eyes lit up and her smile was dazzling. If only she was smiling at me, he thought. The children had hung at her side and to her every word, all day. Now, Luke was on her lap as Olive held Mark in the other arm and Peg sat by her feet. His thoughts were interrupted as Mary approached.

“Aunt Olive told me you asked her to marry you.”

Jacob nodded.

Mary smirked. “She turned you down.”

He nodded again.

“I told her she was better off without a man,” Mary said.

“Is that right?” Jacob said.

“Don’t ya have nothing to say for yourself?” Mary asked and narrowed her eyes. “Still in love with your dead wife?”

Jacob held his temper as Mary baited him. “Feeling bad, grief about my Margaret, hasn’t been easy.”

“Loved your wife, huh? Had a great life with her, like in one of Aunt Olive’s books?” Mary leaned close and snarled. “You were good to John and me, taking us in like you did but I think you’re stupid. I’m only ten, but I’m smart enough to know that my Ma wasn’t a very good ma. But I still didn’t want to watch her get her throat slit. I’m getting over it and even if I never told her, I know I loved my Ma and my Aunt Olive, too.”

Jacob watched the tears form in Mary’s eyes and felt small and selfish beside the young girl. She had a bad, a horrible life but still managed to get past it and he knew that was the message she was sending. He looked away and Mary snorted and left him in his thoughts.

* * *

Over the next month’s back breaking work of getting the crops in, stored and sold, Jacob’s house grew somber. Luke was called on to help in the fields and Peg was often left alone with Mark. Jacob worried, knowing the situation was grim but was at a loss as to how else to solve it. Worse yet, Peg rarely smiled and Luke became increasingly sullen. Clean clothes and baths and hot meals went by the wayside as Jacob struggled to drag himself back home every nightfall and deal with his family. The only high point in his dismal day was that corn prices were holding and his land had yielded a bountiful product.

Luke walked to Olive’s early in the morning one day to ask if John could help in the fields. “Daddy wouldn’t want me to ask but we need the help.”

Olive looked at Luke standing on her porch in the early morning gray light and was shocked at the appearance of the boy. “We’ll get him up. Luke, you look so thin and tired. Are you feeling alright?”

The boy’s head hung. “Just a lot of work this time of year.”

“Can’t Mr. Williams or Mr. Steele help your father?” Olive asked.

“They have some but they have their own fields to do,” Luke said.

“Who’s watching Mark?”

“Peg,” the boy replied.

Olive’s shoulders dropped. She called to Mary and John to get up and dressed and heated oatmeal for Luke for breakfast. She stacked canned goods and a ham on the table while the boy ate and John and Mary got dressed.

“Where we going in such an all-fired hurry this early?” Mary asked.

“Jacob is trying to get his crops in and Peg and Mark are home alone. I have a feeling they haven’t been eating very well either,” Olive whispered to Mary.

“So what are we going to do?” Mary asked and scowled.

“Help, Mary. It’s what neighbors do.”

The girl rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath. Olive ignored her and loaded the wagon while Luke and John hitched the horse. “Come on children,” she shouted as Mary shuffled along.

When she arrived and saw the state of Jacob’s home, she was shocked. Peg burst into tears and clung to her dress when she saw Olive. The girl had burnt her finger on the stove attempting to heat mush for Mark. Olive kissed her and the thumb and helped Peg into clean clothes. To Olive’s surprise, Mary dug into the dirty dishes and piled muddy clothes windowsill high. Mark’s rash was back with a vengeance and the infant howled and fussed. Olive bathed him and made a cornstarch paste. He greedily ate the mush Olive fed him and nearly fell asleep in his chair. Near noon, Olive started a fire for laundry and Mary carried the earth and sweat-laden pants and shirts outside.

“I’m going to take Jacob and the boys some lunch. Mark’s asleep and Peg is playing with her dolls,” Olive called to Mary from the porch.

She filled a basket with sandwiches and jars of iced tea and pickled beets. Olive made her way slowly over the uneven plowed ground and saw Jacob and the boys ahead.

* * *

“There’s Aunt Olive,” Luke said as he straightened from the straw he bundled.

Jacob whoaed the horse and stood straight. His back was sore, his face and chest sunburned and his hands raw from holding the reins. Two weeks of gut wrenching labor had left him wrung out. His mind often drifted to Olive as he drove the horse, tired as well, one more row southward, one more row northward in a seemingly unending battle.

“What’s she doing here?” he asked Luke.

“I dunna know.”

Jacob watched his son look away. He was angry this morning when Luke came through the fields with John in tow and they had argued.

“Jacob,” Olive called, “I brought lunch.”

They met in the shade of an oak tree and Olive pulled supper from the basket. “Did Luke tell you to come over here?” Jacob asked.

Olive looked at Luke’s wide eyes and shook her head. “No. I haven’t seen the children for awhile and decided to visit.”

The boys shoved ham and beets in their mouth and chugged down iced tea. Soon their eyes were closing as they sat side by side against the trunk of the tree.

“Peg burnt her finger this morning, Jacob. I’m not sure she should be home all these days alone with Mark,” Olive said.

“Is she alright?” Jacob asked.

“She’s fine. But the children seem tired and out of sorts. Why didn’t you ask me to help you with them while you brought your crops in?”