“You’re saying my little Emmy-Lou could become blind?”
“Only the good Lord above knows what the years will bring. But from what I’ve ascertained, I would be remiss not to inform you that complete blindness is possible. As I’ve told you, her visual acuity without correction shows significant impairment.”
“Is there someone else who should examine her? Maybe one of those specializing doctors?”
“At the risk of sounding like a braggart, you’ll not find anyone in the region who is more skilled regarding eye problems. I studied in St. Louis under the nation’s leading eye doctor.”
“I’ll take Emmy-Lou to St. Louis, to him.” Desperation mingled with resolve in his voice. He’d mortgage the farm if necessary.
The doctor heaved a heavy sigh. “He’s no longer with us. The instruments I used to diagnose your daughter—they belonged to him. His widow gave them to me.
“As for eyeglasses—the Mermod & Jaccard Jewelers in St. Louis ground the lenses to the most exacting of standards. It was quite fortuitous that I had the correct prescription at all, let alone in a child’s size.”
The idea that any part of this was “fortuitous” struck Jakob as obscene. He gritted his teeth to keep from saying so.
Folding his arms across his chest, the doctor met Jakob’s stare. “Your daughter is a happy child. I know the news I’ve given you is a terrible blow; but for her sake, I recommend you keep a cheerful attitude. In my experience, whatever medical malady befalls a patient is never as crippling as the pity others show in response.”
Jakob thrust his hand in his pocket. If it allowed his daughter to see even a little more for a little while, he’d part with every last cent he owned. It didn’t mean he had to stand here and listen to such twaddle. “How much—”
The doctor picked up the deep green leather-covered-metal eyeglass case. The entire case didn’t even traverse the span of his palm. He opened it, and a small tag inside the black velvet lining showed the exorbitant price of five dollars.
Heavier than iron, Jakob’s heart fell clear to his boots. He’d brought all he had—but it wasn’t enough.
Seventeen
Daddy?” Emmy-Lou came back in. The eyeglasses on her looked so foreign. All at once, Jakob both fiercely wanted them for her and hated them. Unaware of his turmoil, she held up her hand. A pair of red candies drooped in the air. “Daddy, the nurse said you can have a piece of licorlish, too!”
“You need to eat your lunch first.”
Emmy-Lou’s precious little face scrunched. The eyeglasses tilted upward with the action. “But do I still getta eat my cookie, too? I loooove Miss Hope’s cookies.”
“We’ll s—” He caught himself before saying “see.” It would be cruel to use that saying around her. “We’ll talk about it later.”
The doctor bent forward and rested his hands on his knees. “What kind of cookies does Miss Hope bake?”
“Big ones! Great, great, great big ones! We got a extra one ’cuz Auntie Annie didn’t come with us. You wanna eat it? Daddy, can he have it?”
“Ja. The satchel is by the door.”
“I see it!” Emmy-Lou pointed and hopped about enthusiastically. “I see it. It’s right there! I’ll get the cookies!”
While she was occupied, Jakob swallowed his pride. In a low tone, he said to the doctor, “About the eyeglasses—”
“After we’ve eaten.” The doctor motioned to Emmy-Lou. “I have a swing on my back veranda. Let’s all go there to eat the cookies.” As they passed through the doorway, the doctor motioned toward the nurse. “Betty Jo, we’re all done here. Why don’t you run on home? Betty Jo got married last month.”
Jakob mumbled a congratulations.
“Daddy and Phineas and Miss Hope aren’t married. Auntie Annie is married, but she takes care of me.” Emmy-Lou tugged on the doctor’s coat. “Are you married?”
He chuckled. “No, but someday maybe I will be.”
“You can wait for me. I’m getting bigger. I’ll go to school soon, won’t I, Daddy? Then I’ll be smart and old enough to get married.”
I don’t know if she’ll go to school. And what man would marry a blind woman? Emmy-Lou will always need someone to help her. Sick at heart, Jakob managed to grunt as a response.
Completely oblivious to anything, Emmy-Lou continued to be her perky self. “You can eat Auntie Annie’s sandwich and peach, too. I helped pick the peaches.”
“Did you, now?”
“Uh-huh. We gotta lotta peach trees.”
“This,” the doctor said, “sounds like a fine meal indeed.”
“It’s a picnic. Miss Hope said it’s a picnic.”
“Why, yes, we’re eating outside. To be sure, that makes it a picnic, and I thank you for inviting me. I was going to make do by opening up a can of something. I’m a terrible cook, so I just eat out of cans.”
Emmy-Lou giggled. “You can’t do that. Your mouth won’t fit! Our horses sometimes eat out of bags. The bags are great big, so—”
“Emmy-Lou.” Jakob turned to the physician. “She meant you no insult.”
The doctor chuckled. “As hungry as I get sometimes, it’s a good thing the cans are small. Otherwise, I might forget my dignity. As it is, I’ve been known to eat directly from them with a fork.”
Sick at heart, Jakob barely tasted his food. Emmy-Lou chattered on about the harvest and her friends and how she helped Annie and Hope.
“So Miss Hope is your housekeeper?”
Only rich people could afford such a luxury. Jakob rasped, “No. She’s an itinerant harvest cook.”
“Miss Hope’s my wishy friend. She’ll blow away, but we’ll always look at wishies and ’member each other.”
The doctor focused his attention on Jakob. “Judging from the bread and chicken salad, she’s quite talented. Do you know if she’d like to stop traveling and assume a stable position?”
“Couldn’t say.”
The doctor took a bite of the oatmeal-raisin cookie. For a second, he stopped chewing, then savored that mouthful. He swallowed. “Send her my way.”
Emmy-Lou shook her head. “Miss Hope’s gonna stay with us ’til the baby comes. She’s gotta, doesn’t she, Daddy?”
“Miss Hope’s going to have a baby, is she?”
Emmy-Lou giggled. “No. Aunt—”
“We need to settle up and get going.” Angry that he’d let the conversation drift to a dangerous topic, Jakob bolted to his feet. “It’ll be dark when we get back home.”
“I’m not done yet.” Emmy-Lou frowned at the peach and cookie nestled in the skirts of her dress.
“You only eat half a sandwich. Give the doctor your other half.”
Emmy-Lou promptly handed off the other portion. “I only eat part of my peach, too. They’re too big for me to eat all by myself.”
Jakob grabbed her peach and thrust it at the doctor while shoving the other half of his own peach into Emmy-Lou’s hands. “There.”
A smile lit her upturned face. “Now I’ll have enough room for my cookie and my licorlish!”
“Yes, well, you stay here and nibble on them while I set this food in the kitchen and your papa washes the juice off his hands.”
Jakob followed the doctor back inside. As soon as he was sure Emmy-Lou wouldn’t hear him, he cleared his throat. “About the glasses. I have two dollars and fifty-three cents with me. I will need to send you the rest.”
The doctor shook his head.
Jakob’s mouth went dry. “You can trust me.”
“I don’t doubt that in the least. But the glasses cost two dollars and twenty-five cents.”
Desperation and pride warred within Jakob’s chest. “I saw the price in the case.”
The doctor shrugged. “The tags must have been switched. You’ll recall I mentioned the Mermod & Jaccard Jewelers are the manufacturer. In my opinion, no one grinds better optical lenses, but as you might imagine, they also make some embellished spectacles for the fashionable crowd. The ma
rquesite-studded bifocals for a grown woman run five dollars. Simple frames like Emmy-Lou’s—especially small ones with such tiny lenses— couldn’t possibly cost that much.”
Unsure whether the doctor was showing mercy and generosity or if he was making a statement of fact, Jakob decided to be thankful and settle up. “And how much for your examination?”
“Let’s see . . .” The doctor grinned. “A picnic lunch. Yes, definitely. And leftovers.”
Jakob’s eyes narrowed.
The doctor gestured toward the array of canned foods sitting on his kitchen shelf. “Clearly, you’ve never eaten a can of tomato and beefsteak. We’re more than even. I’d appreciate it if you’d tell Miss Hope about me. I’d consider offering her a job.”
Jakob paid the doctor. “I can mention you to Hope, but don’t anticipate her coming. She’s a here-today-gone-next-week kind of woman.” Even as he spoke that truth, Jakob wished it wasn’t so.
“Welcome home!” Hope hastened down the steps and out into the barnyard. Night was falling fast, and she’d lit lamps in both the kitchen and parlor windows to light Jakob’s way home.
Annie trundled after her slowly. “You made it home.”
“ ’Course we did. Daddy used the great big star in the sky.” Emmy-Lou pointed heavenward. “Do you think it’s the same star for when Jesus was born? And my special twinkle star?”
“That’s the moon.” Jakob’s tone sounded leaden as he slid Emmy-Lou from his lap into Hope’s arms.
“Uh-huh.” Emmy-Lou grinned.
Annie came up beside them. “Emmy-Lou, you’re wearing glasses.”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “Daddy buyed them from the doctor.”
“She’s to wear them at all times.” Jakob dismounted.
“ ’Cept when I’m sleeping.”
Hope squeezed Emmy-Lou and gave her a playful shake. “You don’t need no glasses when you’re asleep on account of your eyes bein’ closed, silly. Let’s go on in the house so’s I can see ’em better. Mr. Stauffer, I got supper waitin’ in the warmer. You look like a man in sore need of a hot meal.”
“I’m not very hungry,” Emmy-Lou said. “Daddy let me eat both pieces of licorlish.”
“Then I’ll pour you a nice glass of your auntie’s wonderful buttermilk and feed you apples and cheese. Soon as you’re done, I’ll get you all washed up and tucked in.”
Phineas strode over, whistling. His gaze met Jakob’s, and the tune halted abruptly. He took the reins. “I’ve got Josephine.” As he led the horse toward the barn, he didn’t resume whistling.
So it ain’t just me thinkin’ Mr. Stauffer’s lookin’ mighty upset.
They went into the house, and Hope set Emmy-Lou on her feet. “Now, let me have a gander at you! Oh my! Them spectacles of yours are a sight for shore eyes.”
“Sore eyes,” Jakob grated from over by the washstand.
“Her eyes won’t be sore, what with her a-wearin’ these. Know what, Emmy-Lou? Those glasses of yours look like jewelry for your purdy little face.”
“They do,” Annie said slowly. She smiled and ran her fingers through Emmy-Lou’s mussed curls. “I like them on you. Can you see better now?”
“On the way home I spied all sorts of things. Daddy didn’t make me take off my glasses when I napped ’cuz the case was in the satchel, and Daddy watched me and my glasses. When I waked up, I saw his shirt. Daddy forgot to do one of his buttons today. I helped him do it up.”
While Annie swiped a damp rag over the little girl, Hope put food on the table. For all of his daughter’s chatter, Jakob was notably silent. A long trip would make a body weary—but that didn’t account for the strain in his jaw or the way he avoided meeting her gaze. Feeling unsettled, Hope quickly cut and cored an apple. “Y’all come have a bite.”
“I gotta go potty.”
“I’ll take you.” Hope reached for her. Taking her out of the house would permit Jakob to tell Annie what was wrong. When she came back, Hope’s step faltered.
Holding Annie as she sobbed all over his shirt, Jakob looked up at Hope; then his gaze skidded to his daughter and jerked away.
Emmy-Lou clutched Hope’s hand and quavered, “What’s a-wrong?”
“Aunt Annie knows you don’t like the dark. She’s been worried about us riding home at nighttime.”
To his credit, Mr. Stauffer hadn’t lied. Then again, deep down inside Hope knew that he hadn’t completely answered his daughter’s innocent question.
“Don’t worry.” Emmy-Lou left Hope, went over, and wound her arms around Annie’s skirts. “I got Jesus in my heart and a special angel to watch over me, and the twinkle moon.” Emmy-Lou drew in a deep breath and started singing the verse Hope taught her yesterday, after she’d made the terrible realization something was wrong.
Her childish soprano filled the kitchen.
“Then the traveler in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark,
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star . . .”
Hope joined in, “How I wonder what you are.”
Jakob rasped, “Emmy-Lou’s been singing that on the way home.”
Blessedly oblivious, Emmy-Lou piped up, “Uh-huh. I did. And Daddy and me didn’t worry—did we, Daddy?”
Jakob eased away from Annie and knelt on the floor. Gathering his daughter close, he pressed his cheek against her hair and held her. “We’re home safely.”
He hadn’t lied. He hadn’t said he didn’t worry, but his response satisfied Emmy-Lou. She yawned. “I’m tired.”
“Then you can just drink some milk, and I’ll tuck you in.” Annie wiped her eyes and scurried toward the table.
Burrowing close to her father, Emmy-Lou sighed. “Daddy, your tummy is growling like a bear.”
“Then maybe he ought to pull up a chair and have hisself some supper.”
While Annie put her niece to bed, Jakob silently shoveled his supper into his mouth. Boots grated up the back steps, and Phineas’s voice whispered through the open window. “It’s me.”
“Come in,” Jakob rumbled back in a subdued tone.
Hope quickly poured him a cup of coffee and refilled her boss’s mug. Phineas slouched down at his usual place at the table, and Hope wavered between sitting down and standing at the stove just so she’d have an excuse to keep moving. Jakob focused on her chair and nodded toward it, so she did as he wished.
The clock ticked.
Upstairs, Annie’s murmurings and Emmy-Lou’s sleep-slurred words blended into a lull.
Jakob set down his fork. “The glasses will help some, but we don’t know how long. Something’s wrong. My Emmy-Lou . . .” His Adam’s apple bobbed with the swallow he took to steel himself. “She could stay as she is, but in the future, she may be blind.”
“So,” Phineas said.
“No,” Hope moaned at the same time.
“The doctor said nothing can be done.” Jakob raked his hand through his hair. “I should have noticed it before now.”
“If nothing can be done,” Hope looked at him, “then why would it make any difference?”
“I would have been more careful with her. If I had known, she wouldn’t have been outside and fallen into that wellhole!”
“You cannot believe that.” Phineas drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “How many times have we praised the Lord for delivering her? Would you blame yourself now for something God used for His glory?”
Ignoring that, Jakob stared at the lantern. “My daughter doesn’t know the moon isn’t a star. She thinks there’s just one. She hasn’t seen the handiwork of heaven, and she never will. That’s just the beginning. She’ll miss out on countless things.”
“Hold on a second here.” Hope propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Your little girl’s smart as a quip. She’ll catch on to plenty. As for the moon and stars—well, I can understand why that happened. Think on it. You’re Mr. Stauffer to m
e and Jakob to Phineas here and brother to Annie and Daddy to Emmy-Lou. I reckon if one person can have that many handles, it makes sense that she’d think star was just a different word for moon. Why, her song is ’bout a star. The Bible tells ’bout that one Christmas star. Plain as can be, she’s reasoned things out right smart.”
“What does that matter?” Mr. Stauffer shoved his plate away, the scraping sound amazingly loud in the otherwise silent room. “She can’t see them. She never will. How could God do this to my little girl? He took her mother and her baby brother. Now He takes her eyesight?”
“You said she might stay the way she is.” Phineas continued to drum his fingers on the table. “That is what we’ll pray for. God could let her stay like this. She does fine, and with the glasses—”
“I cannot count on that. Even with the eyeglasses, she still doesn’t see everything we do. Why? Why would God do this?”
Hope dared to reach across the table and curled her fingers around her boss’s thick wrist. “It’s dreadful hard to wrap my mind around this sorrowful thing. I don’t much understand it, but if ’n I have my druthers, it would be God understanding what’s goin’ on and me not know rather than the other way around.”
He jerked free and bolted to his feet. “I don’t want it either way.”
“None of us does.” Phineas rose. “Did you tell Annie yet?”
“Ja.” Jakob bit out the word. “Already her heart was so heavy. This broke her heart.”
Slow, heavy footsteps warned them Annie had started down the stairs. Hope cast a glance in that direction and squared her shoulders. “Mr. Stauffer, sir, we’re all gonna work together and pray real hard. There’s always hope.”
His ice blue eyes bore through her. “Is there?”
Eighteen
How many stars do you see?”
Jakob stopped midstride and stared through the open window at Hope. What was she thinking, to ask Emmy-Lou such a question?
“One, two, three. I see three.”
Forevermore Page 17
