Year of Jubilee (28 page)

The next week and a half, Rafe spent most of
his time waiting on a groggy Jubilee, cooking, cleaning, and
sleeping on a pallet of quilts by the front door. Thanksgiving came
and was a quiet affair. Elsa brought turkey and fixings, yet
Jubilee, propped in bed, ate only a few bites. Slowly but surely,
she started moving around the cabin. She was silent for the most
part, and Rafe blamed the discomfort of healing.

He set a bowl of his poor excuse for oatmeal
in front of Jubilee before attempting a conversation. “Christmas
will be here in a couple of weeks.”

Her head shot up. “What?”

He chuckled softly. “Christmas.”

Her mouth fell open and she fixed her eyes
on the wall in front of her. When she spoke, her words were a
whisper. “What’s today?

Rafe’s brows drew together. “It’s the
seventh. December seventh.”

He stared at her as her face turned
sheet-white. Jubilee’s throat worked convulsively a couple of times
before she stood up, knocking the bench to the floor with a
crack.

“Jubilee?” He rushed to her side. “What
wrong? Are you sick?”

* * *

Jubilee closed her eyes for a long moment.
How she longed to bolt from the room, but she could barely stand
and toddle across the floor without pain radiating from her back
and chest. Instead, she forced herself to move out from behind the
table. In moments Rafe appeared, his hand on her arm, pulling the
bench out of the way. She froze.

“Stop, Rafe. I’m not a child. I can walk to
the bed.” Her voice was pure ice.

He let go and swiped his hand on the nape of
his neck. She ambled to the other side of the room and struggled
into bed, trying to keep the expressions of agony from flitting
over her face.

“I’m going for a walk.” His heels pounded a
beat to the door. He grabbed his coat from the peg and yanked the
door open.

Jubilee panted in the bed, covered with a
thin sheen of the sweat of struggle, thankful he’d left, yet
moisture sprang to her eyes. Rosemary would be here anytime.
Perhaps even today. Tears that had begun in her pain now flowed
from a heart of misery.

Her thoughts shamed her. What must he think
of her, running to the woods and hiding in a tree like some child?
She could barely lift her eyes to look at him, at his face so set
and stern. However, he’d waited on her hand and foot during the
last two and a half weeks. How he must hate her. The claw marks
she’d discovered on her skirt indicated more had occurred than even
she knew. She cringed, trying to remember her fall. She recalled
the snow and turning cold and sleepy. After that…nothing.

Yes, this physical pain was overwhelming,
and intercepting Rosemary’s love letter pure agony. But the
greatest torture would be when he returned to the cabin, picked up
his blankets and belongings, and turned his back on her.

* * *

Rafe quietly pushed the door shut, threw his
coat on, and set out. He shoved his hands in his pockets with
frustration. They still hadn’t discussed the reason she’d climbed
that tree in the first place. A cloudy fog preceded him as he
exhaled into the freezing air. His chest tightened and he clenched
his cold hands in his pockets. He’d thought the night they’d shared
would solidify them into a couple at last, but that hadn’t
happened. In fact, she’d drifted farther away. Jubilee barely
acknowledged him, refused to meet his gaze, and hardly spoke two
words to him. She slept so much. There had to be some explanation.
Maybe her injuries were more serious than Doc thought. Rafe missed
the spring in her step, but mostly worried about the lack of hope
in her eyes.

Rafe lifted his head and found himself in
the very woods where he’d discovered Jubilee. With a gruff sigh, he
wandered through, soon in sight of the tree from which she’d
fallen. The cougar carcass at the foot of the trunk had
disintegrated to just a few bones and a skull. A large amount of
the snow had melted, and the landscape appeared grey and rust from
the leaves littering the ground. He kicked at a mound of them, and
the light breeze tossed them in a flurry of brown with chunks of
snow. A larger white object grabbed his attention.
What in the
world is that?
The wind whipped the slip of paper away, and he
gave chase until he finally captured it.

He pressed the sheet open and searched the
faded letters across the page. The flowing script was difficult to
decipher. He studied it for a long while, trying to make out the
words. At last, he shook his head. There was a five, he was sure of
that. He squinted at the missive, and a sudden recognition of the
flowing slant of the letters sent a chill through him. This was
Rosemary’s writing. But this wasn’t the letter he’d received. His
freezing fingers held up the paper to squint at the signature in
the low winter light. Satisfied the signature said ‘Rosemary’ at
the bottom, he stuffed the offending material into his pocket.

How had this gotten out here? And why hadn’t
he received it? His head jerked toward the cabin as a theory
percolated in his mind.
Jubilee
. Was this note the reason
she’d run and hidden, or had she fled because of the cougar as he’d
assumed? He deliberated through the painful events of the day after
he’d spent a glorious night in Jubilee’s bed. The Larssons had
arrived to butcher hogs, an arrangement he’d totally forgotten, and
he and Jubilee had been thrown for a loop. They’d overslept,
leaving the chores undone. But none of this explained how Jubilee
had received this letter. Had Elsa brought it?

He strode toward the cabin, then stopped. If
he burst into the cabin, talking all kind of gibberish about this,
and not one iota proved true…well, it would have disastrous
results. He took a deep breath. He’d go talk to Elsa first. Back at
the barn after a brisk hike, Rafe saddled the horse in no time.

* * *

Elsa looked at him coolly from the door.
Rafe’s face was chapped from the cold, but he wasn’t planning on
staying long.

“You ask much questions, Rafe. Jubilee might
not like again I tell you.”

“Please, Elsa. I’ve got to know if you
delivered any letters to Jubilee that day.” At Elsa’s pursing of
her stubborn lips, he decided to spill the beans. “Look, Elsa, I
love Jubilee and I need to understand how this happened.”

Her eyes studied his for a moment. “Yah,
two.”

Nodding his head and yelling his thanks, he
bolted for the horse. His heart soared all the way back to the
house. Perhaps now they’d get everything straightened out. What had
he been thinking by not telling her about his ex-fiancée’s silly
letter? He simply hadn’t told her because Rosemary meant nothing to
him. Why, he’d recognized his love for Jubilee months ago.
Rosemary’s problems were Dale’s. Not his. Now he’d calmly explain
everything to Jubilee. Then he’d finally take the chance and bare
his heart. He’d tell her that he loved her.

* * *

“I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” Esther
chimed, setting the dried-peach pie on the table. “We’ve been
praying up a storm for you, little lady, haven’t we, hon?

Pastor Barnett nodded with a kind smile,
settling his lanky body on the bench across from Jubilee.

“I baked you and Rafe a chicken in the big
roaster pot. I know your man has been taking care of you, so I
thought I’d help out a bit.” She sat at the table next to Jubilee,
who was wrapped in a quilt. Esther patted her hand. “I can tell
you’re right suffering, poor girl.”

A sob rose in her throat and she wished Miss
Esther wouldn’t be so kind. It tore down her weak defenses plumb
quick.

“I’m fine, really.” But the words came out
riding a bubble of hysteria.

“Oh, hon.” Esther wrapped her arms about
her.

Jubilee cried and rested her head on the
table, yet the comfort of the woman’s embrace enveloped her.

“Why don’t you go check the livestock,
Raymond?” Esther murmured to her husband.

Jubilee kept her head down, hearing the door
open softly before closing again.

“You poor dear. You poor, poor thing,”
Esther crooned, stroking her hair.

Never had anyone consoled her with such
compassion, and a fresh wave of tears trickled down her cheeks.
Jubilee raised her head and peered at Esther through disheveled
hair.

“Please let me go home with you.” Oh, she’d
stored those words in her heart for so long. For years she’d hoped
to say them to an adoptive family as the time passed at the
orphan’s society, and now she hated uttering them.

Surprise shot across Esther’s face, and then
concern. “Hon, what are you talking about?”

Jubilee shook her head in misery. “I won’t
be able to bear it, I know I won’t.”

Esther smoothed the hair from her face and
cupped her cheeks in her hands. “What, sweet girl? What are you
talking about?

“Rafe. He’s going to leave me.”

Silence reigned. Esther searched her eyes.
“He’s told you he’s leaving?”

Jubilee’s chin quivered. “I…I just
know.”

Esther pulled her hands from her cheeks
before putting her right one to Jubilee’s forehead. She arranged
the quilt around her quivering body. “Let’s get you in bed.”

Anguish weighted every step as she trudged
across the floorboards. Esther fussed over her and straightened the
covers while Jubilee settled back onto the mountain of pillows. The
older woman returned to the table to fetch a book before settling
in the chair next to her bed.

“Listen to me, Jubilee. I don’t know a lot
about you, but I know you were an orphan child. You grew up not
depending on a great deal of folks, which left a scar of distrust
on your heart.” Esther’s weathered eyes were blue pools. “But
you’ve got to open yourself to the Lord and allow him to take the
heartache away.”

She patted the book in her lap and a small
smile lit her wrinkled face. “Proverbs 3:5-6 says, ‘Trust in the
Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In
all your ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths.’”

Jubilee swallowed a rising sob and blinked
the tears from her eyes as she thought of Sarah’s sampler. The
stitched verse constantly mocked her from its lofty spot above the
fireplace and her gaze flicked to it. “Scripture doesn’t always
come true.”

Esther snorted. “The Lord’s words aren’t
fairy tales, hon. They’re promises from an all-powerful God. And
God keeps every single one. He may not answer the way we figured,
or in the manner we plan, but he most certainly fulfills every
vow.”

Esther pressed the book into Jubilee’s
palms. The leather-bound volume and Esther’s comforting hands
clasping hers warmed her soul.

“No matter what happens,” Esther whispered,
“God will take care of you.”

Jubilee’s mouth parted and her heart
swelled. Could the answer be so easy? No, of course it wouldn’t be
easy. But it’d be bearable. Understanding flooded her soul.
Suddenly Esther’s words were clear. Yes, with God’s help, she could
endure Rafe’s departure.

At that moment, the thunder of hooves
sounded from the front yard.

“You think on what I said and read the good
book.” Esther squeezed Jubilee’s shoulder before setting off to
answer the door.

“Fire. Fire at the church. Hurry, Pastor,”
young Patrick Riley yelled from the back of his horse.

The yell echoed into the cabin with a blast
of chilly air and Jubilee rose up in bed.

At the door, Esther caught her breath before
grabbing her cloak. “Oh, my glory.”

“We’ll be right there.” Pastor Barnett’s
voice was louder now as he called from the porch. “Hurry, Patrick,
and tell the neighbors. We’re going to need lots of help.

“They’ve already started a bucket brigade,
Pastor.”

“Good. We gotta go, Esther.”

“I’m sorry, dear. It’s an emergency. Please
forgive us.” Esther swung the black wool cloak around her shoulders
and picked up her empty basket from the table. She hurried to the
bed and leaned down to hug Jubilee and kiss her cheek. “Please be
praying…about everything.”

“I will.”

The door closed, and Jubilee slid to her
knees beside her bed.

* * *

“They need everyone’s help.” Patrick was off
like a shot aboard his quick Morgan pony.

Rafe urged his own mount to a gallop and
covered the ground to his home in a matter of minutes. Once at the
cabin, he slid from the horse and burst through the door. Jubilee
knelt beside her bed and alarm jangled his nerves. “Jubilee?”

“I’m fine.” She struggled to a standing
position before he could assist her. “You’ve got to get to the
church.”

A million thoughts raced through his head
and he searched her tear-streaked face. So much to say, but this
crisis left so little time. His arms ached to gather her to him,
his lips longed to press against her ear to whisper endearments.
Plus, there were countless things to discuss and restore. But these
matters would have to wait. Mutely, he nodded and made for the
door. He caught her words as he pulled the door shut.

“I’ll be praying.”

* * *

The next two and a half weeks disappeared in
a flurry of cleaning the charred mess that had been the church. The
people of the surrounding community rallied around the tragedy and
donated the necessary building materials in a matter of days. Rafe
and the men of the church were determined to raise the new
structure before Christmas, and celebrate the sacred holiday within
its fresh walls.

Rafe, Ivan, and several other men stayed
nights at the Barnetts. They rose in the dark of early morning and
worked throughout the day until well past nightfall, lighting the
area with lanterns. Ladies of the church took turns checking on and
preparing meals for Jubilee, and Elsa and little Britta became a
permanent fixture at the Tanner cabin.

By the 24
^th
, the men had
accomplished their goal. The new church graced the landscape where
only burnt ruins had been. On the last day, the men joined forces
to pick up the tools and scraps of wood scattered across the frozen
terrain.