by S. C. Wilson
The man had obviously come ready to do business. In an effort to entice her, he offered her a substantial monetary bribe. He wasn’t the first to do this, nor would he be the last.
Jesse never knew exactly whose voice it was she heard in moments like those: her mother, her father, or Frieda. Maybe it was a combination of all three. It didn’t really matter. Whoever it was speaking to her conscience, their moral guidance reinforced to her the only ethical thing to do was to decline. Staying true to her principles, his name was added to the bottom of the list.
Like the changing of seasons, so came changes for the McGinnis family over the next two years. Abby had taken the twins and moved permanently to the one-room cabin in Neva in order to oversee construction of the new home and barn. While the separation was hard, Jesse and Abby knew it was a necessary sacrifice if they were going to make their dreams come true. If not for Toby and Aponi living on the property, Jesse never would have agreed to go along with it.
The only time Jesse got to spend with them was on the weekends, holidays, or when she needed Toby’s help on a job. She spent most of her time working alone in the barn behind the home on Taylor Street. Her skilled hands guided the tools, shaping the wood day after day. The shavings flew until her tired eyes could no longer focus.
After finishing a good day’s work, she would often stand outside under a star-studded sky brushing the traces of her work from her clothes. That was when her family’s absence struck her hardest. Instead of going in to share a meal and then tuck her children in bed, she faced an empty house alone. When she stared into the night sky and took in the majesty of the moon, the seemingly endless arrangements of constellations, and the occasional shooting star, she often wondered if Abby was doing the same. She hoped so. She liked to think they were at least sharing something. Sadness always cloaked her like a shadow as she headed to the house for the night.
Jesse couldn’t wait for the construction to be completed because she was quickly outgrowing the barn space on Taylor Street. The new, larger barn had become a necessity. She already had visions of what it would be like to work from her own woodshop in the country. Even though she’d be the one who had to commute back and forth for work, to be able to make the move to Neva and join her family permanently was going to be worth it.
Toby had made a life for himself in Neva like he had never been able to do anywhere else. One day while at the mercantile, he overheard some of the men talking about the unexpected death of a local man. The deceased had been the only farrier in the area. Given his experience with horses, and not wanting to rely on his sister for financial support, he spoke with the blacksmith in town and became the new farrier. After years of degradation, he finally felt worthy as a man.
Much to everyone’s chagrin, Aponi suffered another miscarriage. With the loss of the second child, fear took root in her. Whereas before she had envisioned herself as the mother of several children, now she wondered if she would ever be able to bear any at all. Plagued with doubt, uncertainty ate away at her constantly. It grew like a weed, destroying the landscape of her mind, one tendril at a time. She did the only thing she could and kept as busy as possible as she tried to come to terms with yet another unbearable loss.
Aponi focused her attention on the things around her she could control. She spent hours in the woods harvesting plants. When she wasn’t foraging, she was in the large garden she had planted. Eventually, all of her hard work paid off and she was able to reach into the ground and pull out vegetables—ones she had grown from seeds with her own bare hands. It was at least something tangible she helped create.
After the loss of his second child, Toby gave up on the idea of ever having children. He had never seen so much blood. Knowing he had almost lost his wife, he tucked the idea of ever being a father in the back of his mind where it could do no harm. Burying his stillborn son was soul shattering, and subsequently watching his wife struggle to heal and move forward with her life was hard to bear. The toll it took on her physically and mentally was something he never wanted to put her through again. Her well-being, above all else, was the most important thing to him now. Besides, he reasoned, being extremely close with the twins, he knew what it was like to be a father—he loved them as if they were his own flesh and blood.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Spring 1868
Jesse had begun to doubt this day would ever come. Construction on the new home and the large barn with a gable roof seemed to lag and drag on indefinitely. After returning the key to the house on Taylor Street to the Andersons’ attorney, she left his office and climbed onto the wagon seat next to Abby and the children. With a click of her tongue she got the wagon, loaded with the last of their belongings, rolling out of the city.
Her anticipation was at an all-time high since she hadn’t seen the new home in nearly a month and a half since construction had been completed. She had decided to leave the interior decorating to Abby—she had never cared much about such things, and given how swamped she was with work, she was happy to relinquish control of the finishing details.
Abby was thrilled to take on the task of decorating their home. She had given Jesse strict instructions there would be no peeking allowed inside on her weekend visits until it was finished. She wanted the reveal to be a complete surprise to her.
The wagon wheels traced over the well-worn tracks as it made its way along their lane. Jesse steered Titan to the front of the three-story home and set the brake. She helped the three-year-old twins down first. As usual, they were off and running as soon as their feet touched the ground. They raced toward the open arms of their aunt and uncle, scaring off the chickens that were unfortunate enough to get caught in their path.
Hand in hand, Abby and Jesse stood facing the white home with the full-length covered porch held up by four grand columns. Jesse had been here many times since the house had been completed, but something about standing there in front of it with Abby really hit her. It was done, and it was theirs. This was the place where their children would grow up and memories would be made.
“I hope you like what I’ve done,” Abby said.
“Well, come on and show me already! I can’t wait to see what it looks like.”
Once at the door, Abby placed her hand over Jesse’s eyes as she guided her across the threshold. “All right,” she said, lowering her hand and placing it on Jesse’s lower back. “Open your eyes.”
Jesse stood in place, head scanning side to side as she tried to take it all in. “It’s…it’s beautiful,” she said. “Abs, you outdid yourself. I don’t even know what more to say.”
“I can’t wait to show you the rest.” Abby took hold of her hand and led her across the tiled foyer to a set of closed pocket doors. “I hope you like what I’ve done in this room.” She slid them open, studying Jesse’s expression as she looked over the parlor.
Jesse scanned the beautifully decorated room with fine furniture and décor before her eyes settled on the rock fireplace and its thick wood mantle. She walked across the large navy-blue, tapestry rug atop the polished oak flooring and reached out to touch the stone face. The large rocks, taken from their property, were cool against her palm as she ran her hands over their curved fronts.
“I know the mantle looks plain right now,” Abby said, “but I’m pretty sure you can do something about that.”
Jesse listened as words continued to rush from Abby. She spoke of the troubles she had encountered with the workers—how they had found her to be too demanding, even threatening to quit at one point. Abby’s words soon morphed into nothing more than background noise as her attention was drawn to the objects sitting atop the mantle. There, lopsided as ever, stood her first deer carving propped up by Frieda’s soapstone pipe.
Abby slid her hand up Jesse’s back. “It wouldn’t have been our home without them.”
Her heart rose into her throat at the thought of Frieda. She felt tears welling up in her eyes.
“All right, let’s go,” Abby said, unde
rstanding Jesse’s emotions. “Much more to see.”
She took hold of Jesse’s hand and led her down the hall and into the next room. “This is probably my favorite room of all.”
Again, she studied Jesse’s expression as they entered the room, watching as she took in the bookcase-lined walls of the den. “You need someplace to keep your growing collection.”
Abby walked into the center of the room. “This is where the piano will go,” she said, splaying her arms wide. “It should be here next week. I can’t wait until Jim and Gwen are old enough for me to teach them to play.” She was practically dancing with excitement.
In each room on the ground floor, Abby explained the process of how she had gone about picking out each and every object, down to the paint color and wallpaper. Finally, at the end of the hall just outside the kitchen, Abby paused, her hand on the glass knob of the door.
“I hope you like this room,” she said, turning the handle and pushing open the door. “Surprise! I know this wasn’t what we planned. Someone with a business like yours needs an office, don’t you think? So, I made an executive decision and made the changes. Besides, we don’t need a large pantry anyway.”
Jesse stood in the doorway.
“Well, go have a seat at your desk,” Abby said, giving her a nudge.
Jesse pulled the tall-backed chair from behind the desk and sat down on the leather seat. She ran her hands along the wood top of the desk, admiring its fine craftsmanship. After peering in the drawers she turned to Abby. “It’s perfect. I love it. Thank you.”
Abby walked over and sat in her lap. “Welcome home, Jes—”
They both cringed in unison.
“What is that?” Abby asked, leaning to one side.
Jesse shifted in her seat and reached into her pocket. “Stick out your hand.” Whatever it was she removed from her pocket, she kept hidden in her cupped hand. “Someone told me once about this tradition of setting down roots.” She placed an acorn in Abby’s upturned palm. “I thought we could get the kids to help us plant it this time.”
“I love it,” Abby said, her lashes wet with tears as she wrapped her arms around Jesse.
As they embraced, Jesse felt a wave of panic roll over her. There weren’t many things in life that frightened her. For the things that did, she usually had the fortitude to face them. But she learned years ago the people you love could be gone in the blink of an eye, and that thought was always lingering in her mind. It terrified her to know the happiness she felt could be stripped away in a split second and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
Abby leaned back. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said, trying to clear her mind of her worst phobia. “Why?”
“You just had the strangest look on your face.”
She patted Abby’s hip. “I’m just so happy. You really have done a remarkable job.”
“Well, let’s go upstairs. I can’t wait to show you our bedroom.” She unfastened the top button on Jesse’s shirt.
“What are you doing?” She took hold of Abby’s hands and sat up straight. “The kids could come in here any second.”
Abby’s expression revealed she wasn’t concerned about them being caught in a precarious situation. “Don’t worry about them. Your wonderful brother offered to take them exploring in the woods.” She pressed her mouth on Jesse’s, using her tongue to tease open her lips.
Jesse stood holding Abby firmly in her arms. She carried her up the stairs, and pushed open their bedroom door with her boot. Gently, she laid Abby on the bed and all talk of paint and wallpaper was quickly forgotten as she fell on top of her.
Three and a half weeks later, Abby and Jesse were in the kitchen preparing supper when there was an unexpected knock on the door. It couldn’t be Toby and Aponi because they never knocked, and it was unusual for anyone else to stop by unannounced. Abby shot Jesse a questioning look and Jesse shrugged her shoulders, indicating she hadn’t a clue who was calling at their door.
Jesse dried her hands on the dishtowel and went down the hall. When she opened the door, it took several seconds for recognition to set in as she looked at the man standing in front of her. She had completely given up on the idea that Armand Baptiste would ever return, but there he was, on her porch with a wagon full of French vine cuttings parked out behind him.
“I went to 317 Taylor Street. When I found out you no longer lived there, my only other thought was to come here. Are you still interested in being partners?” He extended his hand.
Jesse hadn’t exactly forgotten the deal they made three years ago, but it was something she hadn’t thought of in quite some time. As she scrambled to make sense of his return, she realized she was being rude. She tossed the dishtowel over her shoulder and shook his hand. “Please,” she said, “come in.”
She led him to the kitchen.
“Abby, this is Armand Baptiste. Armand, this is my wife, Abby.”
He hurried to remove his hat. “So nice to meet you, Madame,” he said, bowing slightly at the waist.
“Likewise,” Abby said warmly. “We were just about ready to have supper, Mr. Baptiste. Would you care to join us?”
“Oui. I would like that very much. Thank you, Madame.”
“It’s not quite ready. Jesse, why don’t you two get caught up in the parlor while I finish?”
Jesse escorted him down the hall. They were discussing all the changes to the property since the last time he had been there when Abby walked into the room carrying a silver tray bearing three glasses. He jumped to his feet.
“Thought I’d make us some sweet tea while we’re waiting,” Abby said.
“Thank you, Madame,” he said, taking the offered glass.
“Abby,” she said, her smile welcoming. “Please, call me Abby.”
“Oui, Abby.” He nodded.
They took their seats. As he apologized for not returning sooner, his look turned to sorrow as he went on to explain the delay had been caused by the death of his father, and his need to remain at home until his younger brother was competent to run the family business alone. Jesse and Abby both assured him there was no need for an apology. Knowing he needed a place to stay, they happily offered him lodgings in their vacant cabin. Once all the arrangements had been made, he jumped to his feet again when Abby stood and excused herself. While Abby finished in the kitchen, Armand and Jesse went outside to tend to his horse and wagon.
Over the course of the meal, they all sat transfixed as Armand explained the process of planting grape vines. Before they could even think of planting, he told them, the fields would have to be worked over. He assured them that as long as they kept the roots of the vines damp, they had plenty of time to prep the land. But first, they would need to get a plow and a couple of capable horses to pull it. Titan and Buck were too small and getting too old for the job. Luckily, Toby knew exactly where to find the perfect draft horses for the task.
After purchasing the necessary equipment, Jesse, Toby, and Armand each took turns behind the plow, struggling to guide the heavy piece of steel in a straight line as it bit into the ground. The one not steering the plow walked alongside the newly purchased draft horses, urging them along as the other hauled upturned rocks off the field.
The Belgian horses strained against their harnesses in the heat of the midday sun, white foam dripping from their mouths. Jesse, Toby, and Armand were soon as lathered as the mares. Dust stirred up by their hooves clung over everyone, coating them like a second skin until exhaustion finally pulled them all from the field.
After spending two weeks breaking their backs over a plow, they finally had the twenty-five acre field ready for planting. Jesse ignored the large pile of wood in the barn for the new-client project she was supposed to be working on. Even she couldn’t help but be involved in something so groundbreaking.
Over the next two years, Jesse made more than enough money to purchase another two hundred and fifty acres from her neighbor. In addition, she added two large
barns, one to house the growing number of livestock, the other for everything pertaining to the vineyard. When she looked out her bedroom window in the mornings, instead of seeing a meadow filled with wildflowers, she saw a field lined with row after row of thriving grapevines. Off in the distance, well beyond the vineyard, she could see the roof of Armand’s home. It was the one they had helped him build on his fifty-acre spread; the one he now shared with his wife, Celia, who was expecting their first child. Jesse often wondered how different all their lives would be if she hadn’t chanced upon Armand that day at The Bay Water.
Jesse’s creations were still some of the most highly sought after status symbols in San Francisco. Business hadn’t slowed since the event at Sam’s, and she had little free time left over at the end of each workday. What precious little she did have, she cherished, spending it with her family. Although she was completely exhausted most nights, she couldn’t have been more grateful for the life she had been given—until her deepest fear came out to bite.
“Jesse! Wake up!” Abby shouted.
“What?” Jesse said, sitting bolt upright in bed. “What’s wrong?” She threw back the bedcovers and jumped up, fear constricting her chest.
“It’s Jim! He’s burning up!”
They ran down the hall and into his room. Their five-year-old son’s cheeks were flushed an angry shade of red. In an instant, Jesse was by his side, her hand on his fevered forehead. His skin felt as if it were on fire.
Jim looked at her with glossy eyes. “Pippa, I don’t feel good.”
“I know you—”
“I don’t want to die,” he said. His small, clammy hand clutched hers. His voice was strained and he struggled to swallow as if his airway was constricted.
