Forevermore

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “Mr. Stauffer, sir. Guess you’re unsettled. Can’t much blame you, seein’ as I’m itchy myself. No use lying abed and wrestling with thoughts.” Hope punched down some dough.

  Words were useless. He didn’t want to discuss his fears. Instead, he pulled open a drawer and withdrew the whetstone. One after the other, he sharpened the knives. Hope stayed busy baking. Every now and then, she’d refill the mug of coffee she’d set beside him. Put a sandwich in front of him. Slid a pair of big oatmeal cookies straight off the oven-hot sheet onto the table for him.

  As he slowly wiped the last knife blade clean, Hope said, “You and me—we made a pact to make things easy on Annie. I’ll do my best for your daughter, too.”

  Jakob looked at her tenderly. “I know you will.”

  She took off her apron and laid it across the counter. Naomi always hung hers on the hook, and so did Annie. Hope gets up so early and goes to bed so late, I never noticed she didn’t hang up hers. To his astonishment, Hope took the tin of cinnamon, sprinkled a little on one apron string, and proceeded to rub it in. She must have seen his puzzled look, because she explained, “Emmy-Lou likes the scent of cinnamon. Most gals wear toilet water or perfume. Me? I reckon I’ll do this so’s she’ll find comfort by me.”

  Jakob nodded curtly, abruptly pushed his way out of the house, and strode out into the darkness.

  “We’re going on a special trip!” Emmy-Lou scampered up to Hope. “Wanna come along?”

  “Why don’t you tell me all about it while I put this here milk in the icebox?”

  “I’m thirsty. Please, can I have some first?”

  She’s just a short little thing. Maybe she’s not tall enough to see. But even as Hope said that to herself, she knew deep down inside that wasn’t why Emmy-Lou asked. “I poured some in a cup for you already. It’s on the table.” Hope turned and stooped—more to hide her reaction than to put away the milk bottle.

  “Thank you. So me and Daddy and Auntie Annie are going on a trip! I’m gonna be a traveler just like in our song you were teaching me yesterday! Daddy says if we go right away, we can get there and come home all in one day.”

  Hope caught sight of her boss speaking in a low tone to Phineas. Both men looked somber.

  No use in scarin’ the child. Could be all she needs is eyeglasses. “Sounds like you’re in for a fine adventure!” Hope interjected more confidence in her voice than she felt.

  “Lottie and Bethany went to Abilene with their daddy on the train, but I’m going in the wagon.”

  “I ain’t never been on a train myself. Dreadful noisy things, if ’n you ask me.” Hope straightened up, holding a dishcloth-wrapped bundle. “Your daddy tole me ’bout the trip last night, so I made up some sandwiches for you to take. Chicken salad. How’s that sound?”

  Hopping like a little cricket, Emmy-Lou proclaimed, “I loooove chicken salad!”

  “Wonderful! I bet you like cookies, too.”

  “Big cookies!”

  “Then it’s a good thing I put some in the satchel. You’re gonna have a dandy picnic today, aren’t you?”

  “A picnic!” She spun around. “Daddy, we getta have a picnic!”

  “Ja, we will.” The worry lines in his face deepened as he watched Annie descend the stairs.

  “I told you, it isn’t a good idea,” Phineas said in a low, forceful tone.

  Watching how Annie held the banister with one hand and rubbed the small of her back with the other, Hope gasped. “Are y’all okay, Annie? You’re not—”

  “No, no. I’m not in labor. My back—it’s just cranky today.”

  Mr. Stauffer’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

  “Ja, Jakob. Did I hear Emmy-Lou say we’re going on a picnic?”

  “Emmy-Lou!” Phineas stuck out his arm and wiggled his fingers to beckon her. Suddenly he stared at his fingers, stopped, and started to swing his arm in a wide arc. “Let’s go check on Milky and her kittens.”

  “Okay!”

  Mr. Stauffer waited until they left. “Annie, Hope thinks Emmy-Lou’s having trouble seeing well. I’m going to take her to a doctor in Abilene today.”

  Hope noticed how carefully he’d chosen his words.

  “Emmy-Lou? What’s wrong with her eyes?”

  “We don’t know. Perhaps she just needs spectacles. Isn’t that right, Hope?”

  Hope hitched her shoulders in an oh-so-casual shrug. “Probably. I’m no doctor, so I’m glad you’re taking her to someone smart to check things out.”

  Annie frowned. “Abilene is a long way.”

  “Best better wolf down some breakfast so y’all can hit the road.” Hope pulled a loaf of cinnamon bread from the oven.

  “I suppose you’re going today because the Smiths need you for tomorrow’s harvest.” Annie tried to smile, but she failed miserably.

  Better for her to think that than to get all het up, thinkin’ Emmy-Lou’s problem is sore bad. Ain’t good for a woman in the family way to get upset. “Your brother’s a hard worker. I don’t doubt that all them other farmers are glad to have his help.”

  Annie pulled on her apron. “It’s a long trip without the train. Hope’s right. You’ll want to leave right away. As soon as Phineas brings Emmy-Lou back, I’ll comb her hair.”

  Annie didn’t understand that her brother counted on her going along. Hope glanced at Jakob, and the oh-so-slight movement of his head and flare in his eyes let Hope know he wouldn’t ask his sister to accompany him.

  “Phineas thinks it would be a bad idea for you to go with me,” Jakob said. “He says it would be too hard on you.”

  Wariness flickered across Annie’s features as she blurted out, “I’ll go if you want me to. You just tell me, and whatever you want—”

  “What I want,” Jakob interrupted in a gentle tone, “is for you to stop worrying. If your back hurts now, jostling in the wagon all day would become unbearable.”

  Annie ducked her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.” Hope poured coffee into the mugs. “Your brother loves you. He and Phineas don’t want you to get all wore out from a long trip. Isn’t that right, Mr. Stauffer?”

  “Yes, it is a long trip.” Mr. Stauffer watched Annie as she trundled across the floor. “Are you sure you are all right?”

  “Ja. I’m just big and clumsy.”

  “You’re beautiful, and that’s a blessin’ you got hidden ’neath your apron.” Hope pulled bacon out of the warmer. “Betcha God hisself looks down from His glorious throne room and smiles at the miracle you and Him are makin’.”

  “But what about the trip?” Annie chewed on her lower lip.

  “I could make it quicker if I rode Josephine.” A curt nod lent assurance to Jakob’s assertion. “Ja. We could get there and back more quickly than if I drive the wagon. It’s a good plan.”

  “Yup. With Annie’s back naggin’ at her, maybe she and me can stay home. She can read outta the Bible to me, and we’ll have our very own worship.”

  “Sehr gut. We’d better get started, then.”

  A short while later, Hope tucked a pillow behind the small of Annie’s back and sat next to her on the parlor settee. “There. How’s that?”

  “I’m worried. Perhaps I should have gone with Jakob.”

  “Piddle.” When Annie gave her a shocked look, Hope laughed. “Did I get the wrong word again? What’s the one what means it ain’t nothin’ but nonsense?”

  “Piffle?”

  “Piffle!” Hope chortled softly. “That’s it! Well, I tell you here and now, Annie—that brother of yours ain’t gonna do bad at all with his li’l girl. It’ll do ’em both good to have a day away, just the both of them together alone. And Emmy-Lou’s gonna be mighty happy to share the extra cookie with her daddy.”

  Annie clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “I wish I could be like you. I worry all the time.”

  “You got some mighty big things weighing heavy on your heart and mind. I reckon you’d be dumber than a
bag of hammers if ’n your mind didn’t drift toward the difficulties. ’Tisn’t that you think on ’em what matters. To my way of reasonin’, ’tis what you do with them burdens that counts.”

  Annie’s knuckles turned white as she held her hands tighter still. She rasped, “Konrad—he said I was stupid and brought on all my problems.”

  The pain tainting her friend’s voice made Hope’s heart ache. “I don’t know Konrad. Truth be told, I’d live a happy life going to my grave not meetin’ him. It nigh unto breaks my heart seein’ how that man hurt you.”

  “For seven months now, I’ve been away. He hasn’t hurt me since Jakob got me.”

  “We’ll praise the merciful Lord that He delivered you. But, Annie, words can hurt every bit as bad as a fist. They tear a body down from the inside. Them wounds are every bit as tender, and their pain lives on far longer than bruises on your skin.”

  Tears slid down Annie’s face. “If I had been a better wife—”

  “He would have found something to fault. Some folk are just plain wicked to the core. The meanness festers inside them and the onliest way they feel good is to tear others down. When you got married, Konrad vowed to love, honor, and cherish you. He broke them holy vows. Ain’t no pleasin’ a man like that.”

  “I should have tried harder.”

  Hope tilted Annie’s face toward hers. “Love ain’t supposed to hurt.”

  “He’d say he was sorry.”

  “When I was a girl, my daddy told me sayin’ I was sorry didn’t just mean I regretted what I done. It meant I’d be mindful not to do that bad thing again. If ’n your husband truly meant his apology, he woulda been real careful not to raise his hand or his voice to you again.”

  Annie let out a slow, shaky sigh.

  “Ever notice how kids copy their mamas and daddies? If ’n you got a son, would you want him to grow up beatin’ his woman and lashing her with his words? Or if ’n you got a daughter, would you want her to live in fear?”

  “Nein!” Horror painted her features.

  “Didn’t think so.” Hope paused. Annie’s expression hadn’t faded. Pity never did anybody any good. Best I encourage her. “Now you got a child to protect. The thing we gotta keep in mind is that you don’t have to do it all on your own.”

  “Jakob,” Annie said in a leaden tone. “I know he will help me, but I worry that Konrad might harm him.”

  “That brother of yours—he’s a good man. Strong. Smart too. Phineas ain’t no slouch, neither. But most of all, God’s gonna help you. We gotta put our trust in Him. He’ll never let you down.”

  Slowly, Annie’s hands unknotted. “It is the Lord’s Day. We should read the Bible.”

  “I’d like that. Think you could read that psalm the parson read last Sunday? I been tryin’ to recollect how it went. If ’n it ain’t too much of a bother, maybe we could say it a heap of times ’til I get all the words stored up in my mind and heart.”

  “Psalm one-twenty-one?”

  Hope handed her the Bible. “Couldn’t rightly say. Numbers just go in one ear and out the door. It was the one what talked about liftin’ our eyes unto the hills for help and how God’s with us forevermore.”

  Annie opened the Bible and carefully turned the incredibly thin pages. “Here. ‘I will lift mine eyes to the hills . . .’ ”

  “Well, glory hallelujah! You done ’membered the ’zact right spot!”

  A timid smile chased across Annie’s face. She continued to read.

  “Hold it. That there verse. How’s about you readin’ it again?”

  “The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul.”

  Hope rubbed her hands with glee. “Oh, that’s the bestest thing I heard all week. Ain’t it grand to read our Father’s Holy Word and get walloped upside the head with that promise? Annie, you and me—we gotta commit that verse to memory and claim that as a promise for you. Konrad is one sorely wicked cuss, but the Bible there promises God’ll preserve you.”

  A small line formed between Annie’s brows. She dipped her head and her lips moved as she silently reread the verse.

  “Well? Whaddya say we memberize that’un? You read it out loud, then we’ll chop it halfwise and work on the piece.”

  In a few moments, they quoted the verse in unison. Hope let out a satisfied sigh. “That shorely blessed me. That verse, I’m always gonna think of it as bein’ your special verse on account of how it’s the most perfectest brace of words to fit your needs.”

  “I can’t lie and say it makes me all at peace, but I don’t feel quite so . . .” Annie shrugged tensely. “Anyway, there’s still one more verse in this chapter. ‘The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.’ ”

  “Them words nigh unto sing, don’t they?”

  “The other verse is mine, but this one—I believe it is yours. For you traveling everywhere, that God will look out for you.”

  Rubbing the center of her apron bib, Hope smiled. “Oh, that touches my heart. The forevermore sounds like a fairy tale, but God’s better’n all them magic fairies in the made-up stories. ’Tis as if He’s sayin’ He’ll be with me whenever and wherever I go.”

  “When I was a girl, I dreamed of marrying my prince and living happily ever after.” Annie’s voice shook. “Everything went wrong.”

  “I can’t blame you for feelin’ thataway. You got good cause for feeling things went bad. But that verse ain’t talkin’ about how a man’s gonna carry us through the future. It says God’ll be with us. He’s all we need.”

  “Here you go.” The doctor polished the lenses of the tiny silver eyeglasses, then carefully put them on Emmy-Lou. “Isn’t that much better?”

  Wrinkling her nose, Emmy-Lou made the spectacles ride up. “It feels funny.”

  “But you can see more now, can’t you?” The doctor pointed at the calendar hanging on the wall. “What is the picture over there?”

  Jakob held his breath and willed her to be all right. A simple pair of eyeglasses? Maybe a dollar and a half—and she’d be right as rain. Hopefulness thrummed through him.

  They’d made good time to Abilene, and church had just let out. The doctor graciously agreed to see to Emmy-Lou right away. Good thing, too. Jakob wasn’t feeling patient in the least. His precious little girl needed help.

  Emmy-Lou tilted her head a bit to the right and blinked. The lenses magnified her eyes. Pointing at the calendar, she asked, “Is that the picture you want me to see?”

  “Yes,” Jakob and the doctor said in unison.

  Emmy-Lou blinked again and leaned forward. “A birdie?”

  Doubt and disappointment assailed Jakob. Emmy-Lou hadn’t been able to see the calendar at all earlier. Even with the glasses, she couldn’t make out the picture well. The doctor seemed young—maybe too young to have enough learning and experience.

  “You know your colors and shapes,” the doctor said. “Tell your papa how many red squares you see on the shelf by me.”

  Emmy-Lou turned. Her lips moved as she counted the brick-sized crimson tins that bore Latin inscriptions. “Four. I see four!”

  “Excellent. Now why don’t you go through the door and talk to my nurse?” The doctor pulled Emmy-Lou from the examination table and set her on the newfangled linoleum floor. He gave her a gentle nudge. “Tell her I said you’ve been a very good patient, and you may have a candy.”

  “Oh! Thank you!” Emmy-Lou galloped toward the door.

  Once she was gone, the doctor turned to Jakob. “The glasses will help her some. Based on the examination, there’s an abnormality inside your daughter’s eyes, in the part called the retina.”

  “Both eyes?” Jakob grabbed at the possibility that it was only one—after all, Emmy-Lou tilted her head. One eye might still be okay. Even if not okay, then not as bad.

  “Both.” The doctor’s stark answer hung in the air.

  Grim, Jakob clarified, “So it is bad. But the glasses will fix her vis
ion?”

  “No.” The doctor met his gaze unflinchingly. “The glasses are so she can maximize what vision is left. This isn’t a common problem, so I can’t predict what the future holds for her. My hope is that she will stabilize at this point so she doesn’t lose whatever vision she currently enjoys.”

  Jakob rasped, “What do we do to stabilize her? The glasses? Medicine?”

  “As I said”—compassion rumbled in the doctor’s quiet voice— “the eyeglasses will maximize the vision she currently has. At this time, medical science has nothing to offer that will stop or reverse the damage she’s already suffered. As you saw when I tested her vision before giving her the spectacles, Emmy-Lou’s vision is severely limited.”

  Pressing his palm to his forehead, as if to push back the horrible truth, Jakob moaned. “How could this be?”

  “Medical science has yet to determine the cause of some maladies. Since no one else in your family history has suffered eye problems, I doubt it is an inherited weakness. You spoke of her suffering a terrible fever last year. I can’t be certain, but it might have burned away cells within the eye or robbed those cells of vital nutrients.”

  “But if that’s so, why didn’t she change right away? I never noticed my daughter struggling. Neither did my sister. Emmy-Lou does so well.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” The doctor picked up the odd contraption he’d used to examine her eyes. “The degeneration has undoubtedly been progressive. Indeed, that is why I believe it might be damage wrought by her illness that took hold and continued to do damage. Instead of a huge overnight change, I suspect the distance and width of her vision field have very slowly diminished. She knows where everything is at home, so she is able to navigate independently.”

  “But the glasses—they’ll keep her from becoming blind.” Fear forced Jakob to make it as a statement of fact instead of a question that might garner an unwanted answer.

  Setting the medical instrument inside a velvet-lined case, the doctor said in a ponderous tone, “I cannot say whether she’ll go completely blind or if she’ll stay just as she is.”