Forevermore

by Cathy Marie Hake

  Jakob crawled into bed and didn’t reach for the other pillow. Just when he’s stopped hugging it at night, he wasn’t sure. Memories of the years he shared with Naomi would warm his heart, but Hope—she filled his life now. The sticky heat of the night wasn’t unbearable because his mind swirled with memories of Hope’s boundless enthusiasm and love.

  Some things didn’t need to be regulated by habit; need was more important. Hope understood that. He’d become accustomed to Naomi’s well-ordered serenity, but life had changed. Hope honored the customs he held most dear—like prayer after mealtimes. She even went the extra mile and was learning more German. One of her most endearing traits, though, was her spontaneity. No matter what she did, she did it with joy. Her zest for life shone like the brightest star when his life and home had been black as midnight. Her name said it all—Hope.

  Early the next morning, Hope woke to the kitchen door shutting and the cows lowing. Johnny was making noises, so she changed his diaper and tucked him next to Annie. “You see to breakfast for this little feller, and I’ll take care of the rest of us.”

  Once downstairs, Hope peeped in on Phineas. He was restless, so she sponged off his face and chest, then coaxed him to drink some apple juice. When she laid his head back onto the pillow, Phineas grimaced.

  “Do ya hurt?” she asked.

  He closed his eyes. “Do me a favor.”

  “I’ll do anything I can.”

  After a long moment, Phineas opened his eyes. They were glassy with fever. “Keep Annie away from me as much as you can right now.”

  Hope didn’t pretend not to understand. “ ’Kay.”

  “Honor.” Pain laced his voice. “It comes at such a great price.”

  Hope wiped his brow. “I’ll be prayin’ for you ’bout that and for your health, too.”

  She went into the kitchen and immediately lit the stove. After starting coffee, she decided to fix oatmeal for breakfast and to hard-boil a mess of eggs. Some egg salad would be cool and filling later on. Hope put a potful of water to boil on the last burner—she could use that to boil the germs from Phineas’s pillowcase and the cloths she’d used to soothe him.

  Anything they’d need to cook ought to be done now. Then, she could let the fire in the oven die out so the house wouldn’t feel like a sweltering oven all day. Hope whipped up a batch of drop biscuits and started them baking, then quickly prepared Jakob’s favorite coffee cake.

  He liked slow-cooked beans, too—so she’d been soaking beans and would put the pot in the oven and let them slow cook all day as the embers radiated their heat. Adding spices and a little fat back to the pot, Hope smiled. Jakob would be pleased.

  She spied him through the window. Carrying the milk pails, he’d headed for the springhouse. Without being told, he’d know to bring in some milk for the icebox. Even with Phineas sick and Annie being tied up with a newborn, things were getting done. I knew it from the start—when I saw his hands, I knew Jakob was the most hardest-workin’ man I’d ever met.

  Remembering his taciturn reception of her that first morning, Hope smiled to herself. She wouldn’t have ever imagined that beneath the stern exterior lay a man of amazing kindness. Jakob wasn’t just a man who labored with his hands—he worked to better his heart and mind and soul.

  Golden brown drop biscuits came out of the oven and coffee cake went in. The coffee finished perking, so Hope placed the pot on a trivet and decided to brew some tea. Tea would be good for Phineas.

  Annie descended the stairs. “I’ll go check on—”

  “He’s restin’. I checked him already, and he’s farin’ okay. I was just gonna brew some tea.”

  “Tea would be good for him. I’ll do that.”

  That worked out right nice. “Maybe you could make a lotta tea. Keepin’ extra in the springhouse would be good. Your brother—he shore does love a coupla glasses of sweet tea with his lunch.”

  “Nothing’s more refreshing than a glass of tea.” Annie headed toward the hook where her apron hung. “What do you have in that pot?”

  “Oatmeal.”

  “Oh.” Annie slipped into her apron. The ties on it hung longer down her back now that her belly wasn’t huge. “I’ll put some rice on. That would be good for Phineas.”

  “There’s a dandy notion. Nothin’ much tasted good to me whilst I was sick, but the rice sat well in my belly. When the sheriff came by yesterday with food, he tole me the sickness is spreadin’, but most are springin’ back after a few days like me.”

  Annie filled the teakettle. “I can’t imagine how Mrs. Vaughn will manage with all of her children.”

  Hope made a sympathetic sound. “You was busy feedin’ little Johnny, so Jakob and me told the sheriff to take the food and help to her instead. We got a good handle on things here.”

  The kettle clinked down on the stove. “I’m worried.”

  “Jakob told the sheriff folks were welcome to your eggs and milk. Sheriff said he’d ask Big Tim Creighton to come by to pick ’em up.”

  “Sehr gut. I want to help as much as I can. You were up in the night with Phineas. Today—”

  “Best you keep your distance from him, Annie. Johnny needs you to stay healthy. Him gettin’ sick from me proves it’s catchy. I’m prayin’ extra hard that God’s gonna keep you and the children and Jakob all well.”

  Halfway through breakfast, Big Tim arrived. Hope saw to the eggs while Jakob and Tim loaded the milk—then the men stepped off to the side. The low tone of their conversation made it clear they wanted privacy. Just before Tim left, Jakob called over, “Hope, I’ve asked Tim to pick up chicken feed while he’s in town. Do you need anything?”

  “We’ve got what we need. If ’n it ain’t too much trouble, Annie’s taken a liking to the feed sacks what have them purdy blue curlicues. Four more, and we could stitch her up a dress.”

  After lunch, Johnny started fussing. Annie went to pick him up. Jakob murmured to Hope, “Thinking to have Annie sew a dress was good—for many reasons.”

  Hope looked into his oh-so-steady blue eyes. Neither of them listed the reasons, but she knew they were thinking the same things. A wave of sadness swept over her. In a few days, Jakob would deal with Konrad. By then Phineas would be on the mend and Annie had recovered. I’ll be leavin’ Jakob—and them all—behind.

  “Was ist los? What is—”

  “A-wrong?” she translated. “Don’t know as I have a real answer to that. More’n anything, so many things are happening, it’s hard to get a handle on it all.”

  “You’ve been working too hard—especially after being sick.” He pressed the backs of his fingers to her forehead.

  Even that light contact made her breath hitch. Jakob’s eyes narrowed, and Hope babbled, “I’m as jumpy as a cricket on a hot tin roof. Wish Konrad would just show up so’s it’d all be over.”

  Jakob shoved the hand that had touched her into the pocket of his jeans. “In three days, Phineas will be well again. It would be better for Konrad to come then—that would have him see two strong men here.”

  “Daddy?”

  They traded a startled look. They’d been so focused on each other, they’d forgotten Emmy-Lou hadn’t gone upstairs for her nap yet. “Ja, Liebling?”

  “I wanna see Milky and her kitties. Can we go see them?”

  Jakob hunkered down. “After your nap, Aunt Annie or Hope might take you if you ask very nicely. Mrs. Orion said Heidi may have a kitten, and Mr. Creighton will take two. Milky is weaning them, so you need to pick which one you want to keep so the others can go to their new homes.”

  “Heidi’s my friend. I’m glad she gets a kitty. And Mrs. Creighton saved me from the dark hole in the ground.” Emmy-Lou held up her hand and rubbed her fingers with the opposite hand. “Milky gots five kittens.” Her face lit with glee. “Then I getta keep two!”

  “No. I told you the day Milky had her litter that you could keep one.”

  Emmy-Lou’s eyes filled with tears, and a few started spilling beneath
the frames of her glasses and down her cheeks. “But, Daddy, I wanna keep them. I don’t want the other kitty to go away. Everybody always goes away!”

  Instinctively, Hope reached out for her, but just before making contact, she recoiled. She needs her daddy to soothe her, not me. He’s gonna keep me around a little while longer, but the time’ll come when I’m gonna go away. Tears filled her own eyes as she inched away

  Jakob woke in the night and lay in his bed, listening. He’d heard something. Having already kicked off the sheet, he rolled out of bed and skimmed into his jeans. The door to the bedroom across the hall was shut. He decided to leave the women and children undisturbed and headed down the stairs.

  “Jakob?” Phineas’s voice didn’t come from the study but from the kitchen. “Is that you?”

  “What are you doing up?” The cool planks of the floor felt good as he went toward the sink.

  “Getting something to drink. I slept all day, so now I’m wide awake.”

  Jakob rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, then blearily looked at Phineas. “You don’t look so good. You shouldn’t be up.”

  Phineas snorted. “Look in the mirror.”

  “Sweet tea. Hope keeps some in the icebox.” Jakob sidestepped and brushed past him.

  Hand shooting out to block his way, Phineas rasped, “I know you, Jakob Stauffer. You can’t fool me by changing the subject.” He made contact with Jakob and rasped, “You’re hot! You’ve got it, too.”

  “I’m fine.” I have to be. God, please let me stay strong. So much depends on that.

  “What’s goin’ on?” Hope’s voice preceded her down the stairs.

  “Jakob’s—”

  “Thirsty,” he interrupted as he gave Phineas a scowl.

  Hope came into view. She’d yanked her green dress over her nightgown. She looked silly. Lumpy. Beautiful. She gave him a sweet smile. “I’ll pour all y’all some sweet tea. Phineas, what time’s the clock saying?”

  “Two-seventeen.”

  Bobbing her head in acknowledgment, Hope took a pair of glasses from the cupboard. “Then y’all can have willow bark powder.” She turned and looked at Jakob. She didn’t smile at him, and he decided he’d have to talk to her about that shortcoming. As soon as he quenched his thirst, he would. Hope’s head tilted ever so slightly to the right. “You shoulda tole me you was feelin’ puny, Jakob Stauffer.”

  “I’m too ornery to take sick.”

  Finally she gave him one of her sweet smiles. “You was just afraid if ’n you said something, I’d go out to the barn and bring back the McLeans liniment and douse you with it.”

  He managed nothing more than a grunt at her assertion. If she’d stop swaying from side to side, it would be easier for him to concentrate. That was Jakob’s last thought before she pressed the glass into one hand and stood on tiptoe to put the spoon of willow bark powder to his lips.

  Two days later, Jakob slumped at the lunch table. He’d managed a poached egg and a few spoons of applesauce. Lord, strengthen me. Konrad will come tomorrow, and Annie’s terrified. I should have sent Hope off with Annie and Emmy-Lou.

  Just how he would have managed that feat escaped him at the moment. Jakob spent most of his waking hours excoriating himself for not setting his plan into motion as soon as Hope had recovered. Now it was too late. What kind of man am I? I’ve failed the woman I love, my sister, and my daughter. Johnny, too.

  Upon determining he’d fallen ill, Hope never once rested. She hovered around, sponging him off, coaxing him to sip fluids, fluffing his pillow, and closing the curtains to dim his room so he could sleep. She didn’t wear him out with useless chatter, but she tried to cheer him up with little snippets that Emmy-Lou said or verses of encouragement. He knew, though, that while he slept, she was out milking cows and doing the chores he normally did. Such a helpmeet, she’d be—if he could protect her.

  Phineas came in late for lunch. He took one look at Jakob and said in a wry voice, “You look like you’ve been dragged by a horse five miles down a bumpy road.”

  “Here I was, thinkin’ on how Jakob’s springin’ back faster than me or you did.” Hope efficiently set a plate down for the farmhand. “He’s ahead by a whole day, gettin’ up already.”

  “You ought to go back to bed, Jakob.” Annie bit her lip and looked away.

  Of all the times you could have picked, Lord, why strike me down now?

  “ ’Course he’ll go rest.” Hope waved her hand toward the parlor. “I recollect longin’ to be outta bed. The settee’s right comfortable. Whilst you and the little ones nap, Annie, I’ll do some ironing. If ’n you don’t mind too dreadful much, Jakob, maybe you could read a few verses outta the Good Book to me afore you take a snooze.”

  Even the weight of the Bible in his hands taxed him. Turning the pages, Jakob begged, Lord, grant me strength. You’re the Great Physician. Heal me so I can protect my loved ones and provide for them.

  The solid sound of the wooden brace fitting into the bottom of the ironing board reminded him Hope had asked him to read aloud. “I don’t mean no disrespect to the Almighty, ironin’ whilst you share His Word with me. Sittin’ all still and ladylike comes hard for me. I do better crocheting or mending or ironing.”

  “My father used to read to my mother while she finished chores. He said ‘Idle hands were—”

  “—the devil’s pig slop.’ Mmm-hmm. I’ve heard that sayin’ before, too.”

  Phineas choked on his food.

  “Y’all need some water, Phineas? I hope you’re not sufferin’ a collapse from being up and around too soon.”

  He cleared his throat. “Relapse. I’m not having a relapse.

  Something just—hit me wrong. What are you reading, Jakob?”

  “Second Corinthians, twelve.” He read aloud and hit the ninth verse. “ ‘My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.’ ”

  “Glory, glory, glory. Ain’t that the most beautifulest thing you heard all day? Jakob, would y’all mind readin’ them last words again?”

  Staring at the fragile page of his Bible, Jakob couldn’t imagine what he’d read. How many times have I heard this verse? Heard sermons on it? But this is different. He read again, testing the words as he said them. Lord, if in my weakness you’re strong, you’re especially strong right now.

  “That was very fitting.” Phineas rose from the table. “I’ll get back to work. If you need . . . help . . . of any kind, just shout.”

  The ironing board creaked as Hope pressed something. “Gotta tell you, Jakob, God shore takes me by surprise. His Word says Jehovah provides. Well, I was a-tryin’ to think of a way to share my special Bible verse with y’all. The one what goes, ‘The Lord shall preserve thy goin’ out and thy comin’ in from this time forth, and even for evermore.’ It fit, with you going out to meet with Konrad. But I didn’t need to hop into the middle and speak my piece. God done His own work.”

  “It was nice of you to consider how your favorite verse applied to my life. In Proverbs, it says ‘Words aptly spoken are like apples of gold.’ ”

  “Hold it!” Disbelief filled her voice. “Say that again, real slow, will ya?”

  He repeated the proverb.

  Laughter bubbled out of Hope. “Oh, Jakob, you’ll never, ever in all your born days believe what I always thought that verse was. Merciful heavens, I betcha God’s a-sittin’ in heaven just chucklin’ over me botchin’ that verse.”

  He’d never pictured God laughing. The thought intrigued Jakob. “Just what did you think the verse said?”

  “Well, you know how when somebody’s talkin’ mean, folks say they got a viper’s tongue? I thunk that verse said, ‘words asp-ly,’ like a snake— ‘are like apples of old.’ Like rotten, mealy, apples. Here I was, a-thinkin’ it was a warnin’ not to speak badly, but it’s tellin’ us to speak wisely at a good time.”

  The ir
oning board continued to creak rhythmically as Jakob laughed softly with Hope. Miserable as he felt physically, she’d cheered him up. Even so, the laughter sapped his energy.

  Minutes later, it took every last ounce of his strength just to go upstairs. He’d been too weak to put on his boots, so it simplified falling into bed. It took too much effort to straighten out, so he sprawled across the mattress. Dully staring out the window, he saw a speck on the horizon.

  Hope tapped lightly on his open door. “Jakob? I—”

  “Look out the window. What do you see?”

  She didn’t argue with him about the proprieties of a woman being in a man’s bedchamber. Instead, she swiftly crossed the room and peered outside. Seconds ticked by. Relief colored her voice as she proclaimed, “It’s that feller what’s sweet on Katherine Richardson.”

  Jakob nodded.

  Hope approached the bed, grabbed the pillows, and tucked them under his head. She didn’t say a thing about his position. “Y’all go on ahead and rest up. Everything’s fine.”

  Lethargy dragged at him. Beneath heavy lids, Jakob watched her leave the room. This time, it wasn’t Konrad—but he’d be there anytime now. And I’m as helpless as Milky’s kittens.

  Twenty-Eight

  Konrad shivered—more from excitement than from the sweat that trickled down his spine. He’d gone home and stewed about leaving Annie at her brother’s. As his anger simmered, a thought took hold. Jakob still owned the family farm, but Annie would inherit it if her brother died. And a woman’s possessions rightfully belonged to her husband.

  Jakob’s farm was first-rate. Bigger. Newer. The house and barn stood strong, and he owned half again as much as the old family farm. With Jakob out of the way, Konrad would sell the old farm. Proclaiming that Jakob’s washed-out wife and the brats couldn’t possibly work his land, Konrad and Annie would take over Jakob’s place.

  All it would take was one accident.

  After almost two weeks of working out the details, he skulked around the far edge of Jakob’s barn. Everything was just as he’d planned. Jakob would come into the barn to do the evening milking. He had not one, but two milch cows—proof of Jakob’s greed. A farmer had need of only one, but Jakob always had to be better than anyone else.