Year of Jubilee (22 page)

He stared at his hands, covered in wood
shavings. How much finer it’d be to have Jubilee’s thick hair in
his palms, to caress the softness, to run his hands across her
smooth skin. To inhale her scent and finger the soft shift she wore
to bed. He groaned. This wasn’t helping. It would take time. He had
to remember courting her would take
a lot
of time. And
prayer.

He tossed the planer to the soft dirt floor
in frustration and walked to the open door. Parking his fists on
his hips and shifting his weight to his right foot, he scrunched
his face in thought. What kind of terrors lived in Jubilee’s mind?
She’d appeared almost fearful. He hung his head and prayed for his
wife. Prayed for her healing.

Tomorrow they’d take a trip to Ivan and
Elsa’s. He hoped this meeting wouldn’t be as tension-filled as
dinner had been. He’d been so set to tell her the third aspect of
his plan—his plan to re-evaluate the ‘business,’ part of their
marriage. He lifted his arm and leaned against the door.

Too bad his sisters weren’t about. They
could milk out her reason for her reluctance for his touch. Did the
woman despise him? He shook his head. No, he’d seen interest flash
across her face. He smiled when he thought of her walking in on him
bare-chested. She’d been so positively shocked, she hadn’t been
able to wipe the surprised fascination from her eyes.

No, there was definitely heat between them.
If only she’d let him explore that avenue a bit. The kiss at his
parents’ house, false as it was, had awoken a desire in him that
was hard to tamp down. Then the encounter in the barn. And from the
look on Jubilee’s face, she’d felt something too.

So, furniture maker he’d be. He turned from
the door and tried to push her beautiful face from his mind as he
picked up the discarded tool. Pastor Barnett’s sermon from a few
weeks past entered his mind. He was learning a whole new dimension
for, ‘
charity suffereth long
.’

* * *

Early the next morning, Jubilee brought out
the buckets of fresh blackberries and raspberries she’d cleaned the
day before, along with the jars, and Rafe stowed them in the wagon.
But Jubilee’s mind wasn’t on the berries. It was on how she could
possibly discuss her questions with Elsa.

The ride over was made in complete silence.
As soon as the men had the berries and equipment unloaded on the
rough outside table Ivan had built for such chores, both men strode
to the barn, deep in conversation.

Jubilee was grateful the work would be done
outside under the tree. With the August heat, it’d be much cooler.
Elsa already had a fire going and several pots were strewn on the
tabletop.

“Hello, Elsa.” Jubilee greeted.

Her friend smiled. “I so glad you come. We
cook berries and chat all day. Come.” Laughing, Elsa wrapped her
arm around Jubilee and the women walked to the cabin. “Da men are
’bout business today, yes?”

Jubilee relaxed, chuckling at Elsa’s broken
description. Rafe had insisted they needed to get right to work.
Jubilee giggled. “I suppose so.”

“No worry. We make breakfast, then we work
jelly. First, tea.” Just as the woman opened the door, a wail
echoed from the back of the house. “Ah, Britta awake.”

Elsa flashed a smile as she disappeared into
the bedroom. Jubilee kept busy, filling cups with tea and pouring
in the hot water from the teapot.

“Ah, here we be,” Elsa sing-songed as she
came through with her sleepy bundle.

“Jubie, Jubie.” Baby Britta chattered and
grabbed Jubilee’s sleeve.

Jubilee gratefully gathered the little tike
into her arms and closed her eyes, taking in her baby smell before
dropping a kiss on the child’s forehead. Holding Britta was like a
warm hug, and Jubilee reveled in it this morning. How pleasant to
cradle her, a balm to her spirit. She doubted she’d love her very
own any more than this precious girl. She could hardly stop her
mind from visualizing herself holding Rafe’s child.

“She still sleepy, I think.” Elsa laughed
when Britta popped her thumb into her mouth and sank into Jubilee’s
body.

“I have good news.”

Jubilee blinked to scatter the moisture in
her eyes, then looked up. “Oh?”

Elsa tilted her head, smiled, and patted her
belly. “Britta soon be a sister.”

Jubilee’s mouth popped open. “Oh, my. That
is
wonderful news. Congratulations, Elsa.”

Elsa’s fair face turned a touch rosy and she
bustled about, bringing over the tea and sugar to the table.

“Yes, Ivan and I so pleased. I try tell
Britta. She no understand, yet.” She sliced several pieces of bread
and lathered them with butter and honey before she returned to the
table.

Jubilee touched her finger on the tike’s
nose and was rewarded with a smile from around the thumb. Her heart
swelled and tears returned to the back of her eyes.

“Bed, bed.” Britta roused and reached toward
her mother.

“Is she tired again?” Jubilee brought her
head up and drew her brows together.

Elsa laughed, a cheerful sound. “No, she
like bread with butter. Her favorite. Here, sweet.”

Britta slid from Jubilee’s grasp. Her lap
felt bereft without the comfort of the child’s soft body snuggled
against hers. But she smiled at the toddler’s joy as she grabbed
the bread and made a beeline back to Jubilee.

“You are so blessed, Elsa.” Jubilee dropped
her head to hide the longing in her eyes.

Elsa passed her a plate with a slice of
bread. “Yes, da Lord is good.”

Britta finished her bread in a flurry of
crumbs and slid off Jubilee’s lap. The child tottered across the
room, cooing and swinging the wooden spoon her mother had given
her. The women finished their tea and started a simple breakfast of
muffins and bacon. An hour later, the ladies delivered the
breakfast basket to the barn.

Outside, they set about pouring the berries
into different pots, and gathering spoons and crates to sort the
finished products. About mid-morning, Elsa excused herself and took
the yawning child to the cabin for a nap. Jubilee busied herself
with the dishes, and Elsa returned a few minutes later.

“Let us boil berries now while little one
rests.” Her voice was low.

“All right.”

The ladies soon had part of the berries in a
large kettle hanging from a spit over the fire. Jubilee stirred the
liquid while Elsa set out the jars. While contemplating her purple
hands, she searched for a way broach the delicate subject that
plagued her mind. Elsa unwrapped the brown paper from the wax
squares and placed them in a smaller pot.

“Are you happy, Elsa?”

Elsa’s head came up for a moment and a
confused expression crossed her fair face.

“Happy?” She glanced down as she adjusted
the wax chunks with a long spoon. “Why you ask?”

Jubilee bit her lip as she stirred the hot
liquid, already regretting her question. She shrugged one
shoulder.

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “Forget
it.”

Elsa finished her task, brought the wax pot
to the fire, and set it amongst the glowing coals at the edge of
the fire. Jubilee could feel her eyes on her.

“No, I wish to answer for you. I very
happy.”

Jubilee glanced up, and her friend searched
her eyes.

“You not happy?” Elsa brows puckered.

“I…uh, well, yes,” Jubilee stammered.

Elsa flicked her eyes to the pot of wax, but
glanced at Jubilee from time to time, a concerned pucker on her
face. Finally, her friend pulled the spoon out to set it on a large
rock, wiped her hands on her apron and stood.

She laid her hand on Jubilee’s upper arm.
“You tell me the wrong you have.”

“There’s no wrong, I mean, there’s nothing
wrong.” Jubilee sighed. She was so flustered she sounded like a
Swedish immigrant. “What I mean is, are you happy being
married?”

“Yah, Ivan good man,” she said.

Jubilee shifted her weight, wishing Elsa
would go back to stirring the wax instead of pinning her with a
pitying stare.

“Uh-huh. I mean, would you wish to not be
married? I mean, if you were able?” That was about as delicate as
Jubilee could think to phrase it.

“Oh, no, no, I love Ivan. He good man. Rafe
no good?”

“Uh.” She closed her eyes for a second, and
shook her head. How to be clear? “Of course he is, I…didn’t mean
that, I…oh.”

Jubilee looked down and realized she’d
forgotten to stir and the blackened raspberry juice had bubbled
over the side of the pan, causing the campfire to hiss and sizzle.
Quickly she grabbed a towel, spread it out to grab both handles,
and pulled the pan from the hook suspended over the fire. Only the
cloth failed to completely cover one handle. She literally threw
the pot with her bare hands onto the table and sloshed the burnt
mixture across the rough wood as she cried out.

“Oh, my.” One look at the white weals across
her palm had Elsa dashing to the cabin to bring butter.

After hurrying back, Elsa smoothed the
yellow lard over the burns on the underside of Jubilee’s left hand
as tears brimmed her eyes, her face scrunched in pain.

“Oh, Jubilee. Hold still. I help.”

Jubilee dragged in a few calming breaths and
forced herself to immobilize her hand long enough to allow her
friend to smear the cooling butter across the red skin and the
raised white stripes. Elsa dipped a thin towel in cool water and
wrapped it around Jubilee’s hand.

“Now, you rest. I finish,” Elsa
murmured.

Jubilee watched with tears on her cheeks as
Elsa cleaned off the table and dumped the ruined batch of juice.
Jubilee’s palm throbbed. Finally, Elsa sat across from Jubilee and,
from the look in Elsa’s sincere blue eyes, Jubilee knew what
subject was about to come back up.

“Please, Jubilee, I must know. Rafe, he
good?”

Jubliee nodded. “Yes, truly,” she
whispered.

Elsa nodded but still looked confused.
Jubilee swallowed. She had to tell her something.

“My first husband,” Jubilee took a calming
breath, astonished she was about to share this information, “he was
not…good.”

Elsa’s mouth parted, her eyes wide with
understanding. “He die?”

Jubilee nodded.

“You love Rafe?”

Jubilee caught her breath. To tell another
human, to dare whisper the truth. Jubilee’s throat clogged.
“Yes.”

Elsa gave a small smile. “Then what is
wrong? No baby?”

Jubilee’s eyes shot open.

Elsa continued. “You must wait. Sometimes
take long time. God send baby when day is right. You see. I pray
for you.”

“But, I…”

As Jubilee opened her mouth, she heard
Britta’s faint cry as she awoke from her nap inside the cabin. Elsa
quickly patted her arm and jumped up to scurry after her little
one, leaving Jubilee in a confused heap. Oh, her hand hurt. But her
heart ached worse.

She pressed her cheek to the table and felt
tears push through her lids while a sob rose in her throat. How in
the world had this conversation swung around to having children?
But, as Jubilee lay there against the wooden table, she realized
she did want children. And she wanted them with the man she
loved.

Rafe was achingly sympathetic when he saw
the angry red marks across the tender underside of Jubilee’s
fingers. Her misery increased as she watched Elsa following Rafe
around with a bit of suspicion in her eyes, constantly trying to
figure out the situation. It was a tremendous relief to bid them
goodbye and to kiss Britta’s sweet blonde head before they climbed
into the wagon.

“You okay?” he asked.

She shrugged.

“Hurts, huh?”

“Yeah.” She wished they were home so she
could soak the towel around her hand in fresh, cool water.

“You and Elsa have a good visit?”

Jubilee shrugged again. If only he knew.

He glanced at her twice and the second time,
he dipped his head to capture her glance. “Something go wrong?”

Jubilee wanted to cry. His compassion made
her grief intensify. Hoping he wouldn’t ask any more questions, she
answered, “No, I just hurt.”

She tensed when his arm crept around her
shoulders and pulled her to him. “Relax. Rest your head on my
shoulder.”

Her eyes pulsated with tears, but she tried
to do what he asked. She sniffed to try to keep them at bay and
only succeeded in letting a sob escape. Rafe stopped the buggy and
put the brake on, and gathered her into his arms as another snuffle
broke from Jubilee.

“Shhh…” he whispered into her ear. “It’s all
right. We’re almost home.”

Home? Her whole situation rose up and mocked
her. What kind of home was he talking about? A home where a person
just married the next stranger that happened to buy a plot a land?
Where two strangers just lived together, coexisting on the same
farm, but never really becoming a family? Two business partners
working only to make each of their single lives slightly better?
Her heart tore. A home where she was hopelessly in love with a man
who wanted nothing more than a dinner in the evening and clean
clothes in the morning?

Yes, her fingers hurt, but her heart writhed
in agony. While keeping her head down, she pulled away from him.
After a couple of moments, he took the reins back in hand. He
clucked to the horses and they continued down the road. When they
arrived, she scrambled from the wagon without waiting for Rafe to
help her and hurried into the house. Her last glance revealed Rafe,
mouth open, looking from the basket of raspberry jelly, still in
the back of the wagon, to the cabin door.

“Enough of this business arrangement. I
think we should have a real marriage,” Rafe said, shoving his hands
into his pockets. “I want to move into the cabin tonight.”

Rafe stood in the middle of the creek,
soaking wet, talking to air. He’d finally taken a break from
harvesting the corn and, feeling filthy dirty, he’d dunked himself.
The wheat was finished, and the straw cut and stored in the huge
barn loft. But his mind wasn’t on work at that current moment. His
thoughts dwelled on a certain delicate brunette who kept him at
arm’s length.