Year of Jubilee

by Peggy Trotter

  “Thank ya much,” he said, not sure what else to say.

  She turned and withdrew into the cabin.

  * * *

  Jubilee barred the door, rested her back against the rough wood, and chewed her lip while working her skirt fabric in a circle. Her brow puckered in thought. Use the wood? Just for a little heat? She rubbed her free hand across her face. The weather hadn’t even been below freezing the last week and a half. Colvin would’ve slapped her silly for wasting fuel in such a way. At the Orphan Society, they often slept five to six in a bed to ward off the cold.

  Besides, she had the new cape Rafe had bought her, the wool blanket he insisted on getting, and the dress Esther had given her. This was the warmest she’d been in years, yet keeping a fire banked throughout the day would be rather nice. A luxury even.

  Jubilee collected her thoughts and headed straight for the food stores. There was breakfast to fix, and a fire to build as well as tend. Never one to stall, she set to work. As difficult as the decision to marry Rafe had been, things had smoothed out. He’d patched the hole in the roof, the porch was redone, the garden tilled, and the pantry contained plenty of food.

  Her thin frame had a pinch of health back, with energy to boot. Now, apparently, there was also plenty of wood to burn. She had a couple of dresses, a cape, a blanket, and plenty of cloth to make several more quilts and shirts for Rafe. Really, she felt almost rich. So why did she harbor such a fear of the man?

  Jubilee arranged the bacon on Rafe’s plate beside the scrambled eggs and fresh bread smeared generously with creamy butter. She put on her cape and took the cheesecloth-covered platter to the barn. He’d be harnessing the oxen in readiness for plowing. Stopping at the newly constructed cold box on the porch, she retrieved the milk bucket and headed across the new grass.

  It seemed silly the man had to take his meals in the barn. He owned the place after all. A man should be able to eat at his table, same as she did. Her steps slowed. He really ought to dine in the cabin. If Jubilee’s hand had been free, it would’ve clutched at her skirt seam. Instead, she came to a halt. Rafe should eat in the house. At his table. That meant she’d have to share or take her meals elsewhere.

  Her face scrunched in thought. Sharing the cabin would be the decent thing. She let out a loud sigh. Time to get past this fear. She’d tell him he was welcome to take his meals at the cabin.

  She set the pail of milk down and opened the heavy door. The barn’s size resembled a mansion. Since the hour was early, the inside appeared still and shadowy. The rustling above made her wonder if he gathered hay in the loft. Like an answer from on high, a large wad of straw fell to the middle of the floor.

  “Hello?” she called and heard a muffled response.

  She went to the rough-cut bench, the same one she’d sat upon the first night Jubilee had met him, and set the platter and pail down. He suddenly appeared at the top of the ladder with a lantern, which gave a soft glow that brightened as he climbed down. He nodded his head at her and made for the bench. She stepped back but did not leave as customary. After hanging the lantern, he pulled a bucket from a peg and washed his hands, drying them on the towel from atop the plate. He paused and looked at her.

  “You needin’ something?” Like the barn, his voice was quiet.

  Jubilee swallowed around the knot in her throat.

  “Yes,” she began, her fingers fixed in the seam of her skirt. “I think it’d be more proper for you to eat at the table. In the cabin.”

  He rubbed his hand down his chin, and Jubilee could hear the rasp of whiskers.

  “What’s brought this on?”

  She shrugged one shoulder.

  “More proper, huh? You know, there’s not too many folks watchin’ us eat our meals that I’m aware of. I’m all right here.”

  Jubilee stared at the plate to avoid his eyes. Heat spread up her neck.

  “Well, I suppose I didn’t really mean proper. Maybe I meant more comfortable.” Checking his reaction, she caught his crooked grin.

  “More comfortable for me, or for you?”

  She cleared her throat, hoping the shadows of the barn hid her hot cheeks. How do I answer that? Her hands clasped behind her. She refused to shrug again. “Well, I wouldn’t have to carry all this out here and back inside. If you wanted seconds, I’d be right there, and you could sit down at a table and…”

  He grinned again. “Fine. As long as this arrangement suits you, it suits me. But I won’t be in tonight. I’ll be plowing ’til dark-thirty.”

  Jubilee swung around and all but flew to the cabin. Glory be, she hoped she didn’t regret doing that.

  * * *

  That night, Rafe settled in on the small cot and arranged the new quilt over his body to suit him. He couldn’t help but smile as the smell of fresh hay surrounded him. The blanket warmed him, and he admired the muted colors, which satisfied a masculine taste. No, what made him grin was her nervousness at asking him to take his meals inside the cabin. That oughta be a hoot. She’d probably sit across the room, right next to the back door, with her breakfast balanced on her lap. If he even spoke, her plate might tumble to the floor. He grunted, yet the smile slid from his face. The image was humorous, but the reasons behind her fear were definitely not. Perhaps sharing a meal would take the fear from her eyes.

  He couldn’t complain. The food was good and filling. And, even though she was hardly bigger than a bird, she didn’t shy away from hard work. This quilt was proof of that. He stretched his arms out and laid his hands behind his head, elbows out.

  Yep, things were coming around. Most of the fields he’d planned on planting this year were plowed. He’d fixed the fences, hacked down weeds surrounding the cabin, fixed the roof and replaced the porch. The garden was ready to plant, the new cow would soon drop her calf, and the old one was healthy enough for breeding again. After planting the garden and the fields, he’d start digging up the rest of the stumps from the front yard.

  Thoughts of his family crept in to dampen his spirits. He’d sent off a letter to let them know of his marriage. He’d kept the note short and sweet. There really wasn’t much to say. His younger sister, Sarah, would be heartbroken to learn of his unexpected wedding. He sighed. This certainly wasn’t what he would’ve chosen.

  Rosemary’s face crossed his mind. He shook his head to deny a stab of pain. His pride still stung to think of her sneaking off and marrying Dale. If it’d have been anyone but his best friend, it wouldn’t be quite so hard to take. He groaned and pushed away the disturbing thoughts.

  What did it matter anyway? He’d married Jubilee, and as far as folks knew, this was a normal marriage. His family would support him, and soon everyone in his hometown would receive the news. The distance might aid in appearing as a regular married couple. He and Jubilee, just an average man and wife.

  Suddenly he grinned in the darkness. He at the table, and Jubilee sitting primly at the back door with her plate in her lap.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jubilee scurried around, flour flying into the air. What was wrong with her? Her usual morning routine seemed shot to pot. Now the biscuits were burnt. She huffed. Too late to fix another batch since Rafe’s heavy boots sounded on the new porch floor. She scooped the eggs and bacon to the plate, almost throwing the biscuit basket on the table when she heard a small knock on the door.

  “Come in.” She had to utter it twice to be heard, then caught her breath as his huge form filled the doorway.

  “Mornin’,” He removed his hat and hung it on the peg near the window.

  The table was a simple trestle with two bench seats on either side. Rafe chose the one against the wall in front of the only glass pane. Jubilee fidgeted nervously by the stove.

  “Okay if I sit here?” He gestured.

  She nodded and shrugged one shoulder. The man owned the place yet asked her where to sit. She snatched up a fork, a knife, and a clean cloth napkin to lay them on the table close to the lone plate.

  He sat and sta
red at her. “Is this my plate or yours?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yours.”

  He glanced around the table before spreading his search to the kitchen area. “Where’s yours?”

  “I…thought I’d eat later. This way I can get you anything you need and such…” She gnawed her lip and looked away from him, but not before she caught the half-smile that crossed Rafe’s face.

  “So you’re just gonna stand and fetch while I eat?”

  Jubilee made the mistake of letting her gaze wander back to his. There he sat with that quirky grin, eyebrows lifted, humor lighting his eyes.

  “I…”

  And she could think of nothing, absolutely nothing to say. All she could concentrate on was the way the early morning sunlight lit the blond highlights in his hair. Holy moley.

  * * *

  Rafe shook his head. If the woman thought she’d pretend to be his servant, she had another thing coming. He stood, retrieved a plate from the shelf, and laid it directly opposite of his. He collected a fork, knife, and napkin, and arranged them next to the empty dish. He went to the stove and picked up another egg.

  “What are you doing?” Her question came in a rush.

  He turned to face her, still gripping the oval shell.

  “Jubilee, I’m not gonna eat alone while you wait on me hand and foot like some lowly servant. Let’s both sit down and have breakfast. It’ll be a great time for us to discuss business. We’re partners on this farm and we’ve got to work together to make a go.”

  With that he stepped up to the stove and cracked the egg into the pan, and it immediately began to sizzle.

  * * *

  He could fry an egg? She stared, opening her mouth in disbelief as he scooped it out and plopped the finished product onto her plate. She’d never seen a man cook. He held out his hand toward the bench, indicating she should sit. She did so, eyeing him the whole time. He immediately bowed and said a simple prayer of thanks so quick Jubilee hadn’t even collected her wits enough to bow her head. Then he peered at her, eye to eye. He seemed very close.

  “I’ll switch ya eggs if you don’t like my cooking.” A rumble echoed from his chest as he laughed at his own joke.

  Jubilee’s hands sweated. She wiped them on her skirt. “No, this is fine.”

  “Could you pass the biscuits?” he asked.

  Jubilee reached for the basket and remembered some were overdone. Perhaps by chance he’d reach in and get a good one. As luck would have it, a black-bottom one filled his hand. She held her breath. He picked up the knife and sliced the biscuit in half. The utensil clattered to the table and banged on the bench beside him before clanging across the floor.

  * * *

  Jubilee’s reaction to his accidental dropping of the knife reminded Rafe of a small, crisp leaf whipped by a rush of wind. She leaped up, literally jumped over the bench, and knocked it to the floor. In a flurry of skirts, she darted across the room. He barely had time to stand before she hovered at the back door, shaking like a frightened rabbit.

  “Jubilee? What’s going on?”

  She shook her head vigorously. “I didn’t mean to burn them. It was…an accident. I’ll be more…careful next time, I promise. I think I had the stove too hot or…”

  Rafe slowly stepped towards her, and she flinched. Her eyes were huge, muddied pools.

  “Jubilee, listen to me. I accidentally dropped the knife. I’m not mad about the biscuits. They’re fine. I’ll just cut off the bottom. My sister Sarah used to do this every time she made bread. Trust me. No big deal.”

  She continued to hover at the back door, her fingers worrying her skirt in a circle.

  “Please come and sit down.” When she hesitated, he returned to his bench and eased his body down. He couldn’t feel less like eating now, but he’d stuff this food in his mouth nonetheless, to show her everything was fine.

  He retrieved the knife, wiped it clean, and quickly severed off the charred section of the biscuit, then buttered the cut side. After a bite, he tried to chew, ignoring the awful tumble in his stomach at her violent reaction. Somewhere along the way she’d learned physical punishment accompanied burnt food. Stoically, he forked a wad of egg into his mouth and waited for her to return to the table. She did, and even sat down.

  Jubilee picked up the fork and poked at the meal without actually eating. Her head stayed down.

  Rafe tempered his next words with an extra soft tone. “Remember what I promised you before we got married?”

  “Yes.”

  He took a deep breath. “I’m not going to break that promise.”

  Rafe stared at the top of her head, waiting.

  “Jubilee. Look at me.”

  She raised her head and met his eyes.

  “Whether you burn the biscuits, or drop a dozen plates, or destroy the garden, I’m not gonna hurt you. Understand?”

  Her head bobbed.

  “Do you believe me?”

  He took in her perplexed face, her eyes glistening with tears. Finally she gave that one-shouldered shrug.

  Rafe placed his hands on either side of his plate and leaned forward. “Jubilee, you can take my oath to the bank because whether you trust me or not, I’m gonna keep it like I said.”

  And with that he rose, excused himself, and left the cabin.

  * * *

  Anger drove Rafe to work harder than ever, and planting the last field didn’t take long to finish. Oh, what he wouldn’t do to Colvin if that dag-burned idiot hadn’t gone and got himself killed. She was no bigger than a child. The scene at the table repeated through his mind, ending with her at the back door, arm up to fend off blows. And her eyes, her huge, pleading eyes. The incident made him sick.

  Finally, he threw himself on the new grass that ran along the fencerow. Shielding his face from the sun, he prayed. Oh, God, let Jubilee heal. Help her forget the meanness and be able to forgive.

  He groaned, but a peace entered him, and he realized it was the first time he’d really prayed since he’d lost Rosemary. He sat up. Praying hadn’t felt awkward. He hadn’t double-thought the process or anything. The prayer had just come as natural as his prayers had before he’d been jilted. He sighed. I’m sorry God. I shouldn’t have quit praying.

  He recalled Pastor Barnett and how he’d promised they’d try to attend the morning service. Here, some four weeks later, they’d never once darkened the church door. Rafe bowed his head and rubbed his hot neck. Maybe now was time to keep his promise, not only to Pastor Barnett, but to God.

  * * *

  Jubilee was in a jumble. She was an idiot. An idiot. Why did she leap across the room for such a simple thing as a knife dropping to the floor? She swallowed around the lump in her throat as the tears filled her eyes. Why, if she burned the biscuits when Colvin had been home, she’d left his meal and disappeared into the woods until he was gone. But this wasn’t Colvin. This huge man who now occupied a place at the table was hard to read.

  Rafe was quiet. He was calm. Or at least he appeared to be. Jubilee knew only time would prove whether he really possessed these qualities. He seemed honest, he even appeared…godly. If only he weren’t so large. If he decided to, he could tear her apart. And that was, plain and simple, why she had such a difficult time letting go of her fear.

  She took a shaky breath and scrubbed the frying pan harder. Trust. The words entered her mind like a wisp. Her movements ceased. Had this been her own thought? She shook her head. It didn’t matter. Trusting Rafe might have dangerous results. Help me trust, Lord, if he is worthy. If he is not, Lord, keep me safe.

  * * *

  “Church?” The word came out of her mouth as a squeak and brought Rafe to a stop in the middle of his sentence. They sat across from each other, having a delicious, stilted dinner. Then he’d dropped his idea of going to the morning service.

  “Do you not want to?” he asked.

  She blinked. Of course she wanted to go. She’d yearned to attend since coming to this lonely cabin with Colv
in two years before, but he wouldn’t even discuss the possibility.

  “I…”

  Dared she tell the absolute truth? Surviving the Orphan Society, being bound out to Mrs. Galston, as well as life with Colvin, had taught her to filter her answers to reflect what the hearer wanted. Examining his friendly, warm expression, she decided to take a chance. Warmth spread up her neck.

  “I’d love to go.”

  A grin broke across his face and Jubilee caught her breath. She flicked her gaze to her plate.

  “Excellent. I’d hoped you’d want to. I promised Pastor Barnett, after all, and I remembered the other day we hadn’t been yet.”

  She contemplated the new shirt she’d finished for him. The garment was burgundy and would look fine for church if he had no other. She’d make sure she gave it to him before he took his leave tonight. Her thoughts came to a halt as he continued to speak.

  “Uh, I’ve also got some more news.”

  She gazed at him. His face had lost its carefree grin and had now been replaced by a puckered brow.

  “I received a letter from my family,” He took a drink of water before his eyes came back to hers. “They’re inviting us to come so they can meet you.”

  Jubilee’s stomach practically hit the floor. She clutched the table edge and looked down. Had this plate contained tasty food? Because, right now, the meal looked awful. Her hand worried her skirt and, when she didn’t reply, he continued.

  “I thought the best time to go would be in the next couple of months while the crops are growing. I can get one of the neighbors to take care of the animals. Perhaps one of the boys could weed the garden. We’ll go by steamboat up the Ohio. It’s a long haul in a wagon.”

  His voice was so calm and quiet. Yet a buzzing began in her head. Visiting family? People who’d believe they were just any ordinary couple? An actual family? What did one do with kin? How in the world would she cope in a house full of strangers?

  “Should I go ahead and get the tickets?”

  She tried to wrap her brain around the matter. Had he asked a question?