* * *
Rafe stared at Jubilee the following morning. Dark circles rimmed her beautiful brown eyes, and she refused to meet his gaze. Even her face seemed pale. His brows drew together. Had he missed something? Perhaps she was still sick.
The woman said not a word the entire way back in the overcrowded coach. The rest of the crammed occupants were quite chatty, however, which helped the trip pass. Nevertheless, her silence weighed on Rafe’s mind.
It nearly crossed his lips a dozen times to broach the subject on the way home, but she kept dozing on his shoulder as he steered the horse. Once they arrived, she scrambled into the cabin, her arms loaded with her belongings, before he could even maneuver around the wagon. There was nothing left to do but take the horse to the barn and get settled for the night.
It grew quite late by the time he had the horse bedded down and everything unloaded and put away. Still, he couldn’t sleep. He avoided the cot and paced a bit before striding to the door.
Rafe stood in front of the barn, hands in his pockets, looking at the cabin. Through the night’s deep darkness, he could barely make out the structure in the distance. He hung his head and reached a toe out to scrape the dirt for no particular reason. He wanted to go to the door and knock and…just talk. They hadn’t had a conversation the entire trip. He…missed their talks. He lifted his head. He missed her.
Grunting, he turned away and went back into the barn to his cot. Back to business as usual. He had to get used to his role on their farm. Why in the world was his head filled with Jubilee? Sleep eluded him as he lay thinking of her shy smile and her long, shining hair. He sighed.
Would she wear that white thing she’d worn at his parents’ house? Would she raise the window tonight to let the air in? Would her thick curls be unbound and gathered about her delicate shoulders? He groaned and flung his arm over his eyes. First Rosemary and now Jubilee. What was he thinking? Some folks might say he was fickle. But the truth was, Rosemary paled in comparison to Jubilee, just like the feelings he’d once had for his former fiancée.
Firmly, he pushed thoughts of Jubilee away. It was just because he’d spent some intimate time with her, that’s all. Now life would be different. Everything would go back to normal.
* * *
But it didn’t. He worked the farm, ate dinner at the house. He prayed over the weather and the crops, hoping for a good harvest.
They went to church. Jubilee ogled that baby, making Rafe cringe. Elsa stopped by the cabin, and Jubilee spent the day on the front porch with Britta. He struggled to keep his eyes on the barn as he painted, and Ivan’s thick Swedish accent faded to unintelligible syllables.
It made him realize the emotion he’d felt for Rosemary had been very shallow next to the all-encompassing nature of what he now felt for Jubilee. And what did he feel for Jubilee?
He pondered this as he wandered along the edge of the corn patch the next day. It rose chest high and as green as grass. The wind stirred the stalks and shuffled them, filling the field with whispers. He kept walking until he came to the verge of the woods and parked his body beneath a young pin oak tree, its branches dipping low and enclosing him in his own thought cave.
Pressing his back against the smooth bark, he found himself mouthing a prayer. God, what’s wrong with me? His thoughts were consumed with Jubilee’s smile, her flushed face, that gorgeous hair, and her uncertain, dark eyes. How fragile she seemed, yet how strong. A huge swell of protectiveness rose. He was so drawn to her. A longing tugged at him to pull her into his arms. He…his eyes opened wide. Holy hornets. He loved her. He was in love with Jubilee!
He sat a long while, blinking, mouth agape. At last he stood in shock. When had this happened? How had this happened? He picked up a small rock and flung it. What an idiot. He was in love with his business partner.
Yes, yes, she was his business partner. Business. All business. He’d promised her they’d work together to make a home for themselves—a cooperative effort. She’d clean, blither and blather, and he’d plow, harvest, etc., and so on, and this… This had not been part of the arrangement. A dawning fell across him. Everett had known. Rafe recalled his laughter that day in the wagon. I’ve been so blind.
Now what? She’d been such a sport during the visit home, battling with Rosemary, saving his face. And he’d…great. He’d made sure she knew the whole charade was nothing more than a ruse. He brought to mind the day he’d dropped to his knee to propose. Hadn’t he then wished the whole scene was real?
Wait a minute. Why was he standing here ruminating as if there were nothing he could do about all of this? She’s my wife. That sort of gave him an edge. Yeah. Where could she go?
An idea formed in his head. Only, if this failed, what a difficult situation they’d both be in. He raised his gaze to the robin’s egg sky and let his soul cry out. God’s plan. Hadn’t his father assured him things happen for a reason? Is this your intent, God? I love her. But I can’t go off on my own again. I made such a mess before. Should I pursue my wife? My…wife. Warmth spread through his chest and sureness settled in his gut—an Almighty assurance. He grinned.
Business was about to be mixed with pleasure because, as of this moment, he was gonna court his business partner.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jubilee’s eyes widened. Rafe’s broad smile caught her off guard and took the breath from her body. She dropped her gaze to her plate, then cut her eyes back to the wild daisies that sprang from the pewter coffee cup in the middle of the table. She had no vase, so when Rafe had appeared for supper, clutching those flowers, she’d scrambled around to find something, anything, to put them in.
“Do you think you can?” he asked as she stared at the white and yellow posies.
She swallowed, her glance colliding with his. “What?”
Somewhere amongst the disarming smile and the playful daisies, he’d shot her a question, but she hadn’t the foggiest notion what he’d asked. Her face suffused with heat.
“The swing?” He prompted and shook his head with a chuckle. “I’d like to hang the thing on the porch. I wondered if you could help hold the sides.”
Ah, the swing. “Uh…yes.”
That crooked smile swept across his face, mesmerizing her.
“Good.” His brows rose and the dimple deepened.
She quickly dropped her eyes to the plates on the table. Her nervous hands itched to be busy, so she stood to gather them.
“Let’s leave the dishes for now and get to hanging while there’s plenty of sunlight. I’ll be more than glad to give you a hand with those afterward.”
She hesitated before setting down the stack she’d collected and rubbed her hands down the front of her dress.
He rose, took a step to the door to open it, and indicated with his muscled arm that she should precede him. She allowed a small smile to flit across her features in a response to his bold grin.
’Twas one thing to interact with him under the cover of darkness as they had at his parents’ house, but this was daylight, when his masculine presence seemed to fill the corners of the room. And without his family’s expectations, well, this situation became a different thing indeed. His warm smiles and flirting eyes confused and hypnotized. Feeling like a dolt, she slipped through the door ahead of him.
He jogged to the barn, her attention on his easy movements. A few moments later he reappeared with the large swing, easily slung over one bunched shoulder. She stepped back as he arrived at the cabin and flipped it down on the left side of the porch.
The muscles of his shoulders rippled and snugged the shirt tight. Jubilee dropped her gaze as a rush of attraction tugged at her, causing heat to rise up her neck. With a deep breath, she coached herself. Nothing has changed. Everything’s the same.
Liar.
He adjusted the swing on the floor in the exact location of where it would hang, then tightened the rope and picked up one armrest. He held the side easily in one hand.
“Can you hold this while I
reach and tie it off?” he asked, as he grabbed a stool from beside the front door.
“O…kay.”
He handed the arm to her with an encouraging grin, and stepped up on the stool. Her shoulder brushed his leg, and she strained to lean back. She kept her head down to hide her hot face. I’m being ridiculous. I’ve sat by the man in a buggy seat, slept across the room from him, but I can’t lean against him without embarrassment? Yet she couldn’t stop her body’s reaction to his nearness.
He brushed her again as he secured the rope to the porch beam before stepping down. With his knife, he split the fibers through the two holes in the arm rest.
Bent over, his focus intent on the knot he made, their faces drew together. Jubilee blinked and caught her breath. He straightened and winked. More heat pulsated up her neck.
“All right. One more.” He stepped to the other side. “Here, why don’t you stand right about there?”
He pulled her to the exact spot, his hands upon her waist. Jubilee licked her lips when he didn’t release immediately, and her heart tripped a fast beat.
The other side was accomplished in the same order, with the space even more limited because of the wall of the house. Jubilee concentrated on keeping as far away as she could and ignoring the pounding of her heart. She gave a thankful sigh when she could step back. He tugged on the ropes to ensure the sturdiness of his project, and she turned toward the door, intent on making her escape.
“Whoa, there,” Rafe said. “Don’t you want to try this contraption out?”
She spun and shrugged one shoulder.
He sat, none too gently. “See, sturdy as an oak.” He patted the seat next to him and grinned. “Come on. We deserve a few minutes of rest in the breeze. Those dishes can wait.”
Reluctantly, she perched on the edge.
“Sit on back and let’s set it in motion.”
As soon as she complied, he pushed gently against the floorboards to set the seat swinging. She gripped the armrest, feeling the muscle of his leg push against hers. Wasn’t this swing smaller than normal? How silly to notice such a thing. They rode in the buggy seat all the time, which was a tighter fit than this. They’d sat together on the steamer, with her head on his shoulder, not to mention the crammed ride in the stagecoach. She’d practically been in his lap.
Still, this was an activity of choice, not necessity. After a few minutes, her body began to relax despite her over-awareness of his presence. The gentle sway soothed like a rocking chair, with a tiny breeze cooling her skin.
“Nice.”
“Yep.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
They swung back and forth for several minutes.
“Fields are looking good.”
“Oh, uh-huh.” She sensed his perusal. One hand lit to her skirt to swirl a knot in nervous circles.
“Why do you do that?” Stopping the swing, he leaned toward her.
She caught her breath, sat stick straight, and flung her hands in her lap.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He gave a low chuckle. “You’re sure strung up tight. Ain’t nothing to apologize about. I didn’t mean anything. Just noticed you worry your dress a lot.”
His eyes were like searing coals on her face. She shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose I’m a bit tense.”
“Why?”
She blinked and took a slow breath. “I’m not sure.”
They rocked some more, and Jubilee clenched her hands firmly in her lap. He spoke again. “I miss us talking, ya know?”
Boy, do I. She nodded. Only the birds’ songs echoed around them for a few moments.
“Been thinking of going over to the Larsson’s on Friday. He wants me to help clear another field for next year. You want to go?”
“Oh, yes. Elsa and I can visit and make some raspberry jam.”
Jubilee thought of the jars in the barn she needed to gather and wash. Rafe uncrossed his arms and laid his hands on his legs. She wiggled in her seat, glancing at his big hand edging closer. Why had this talking thing seemed easier in the dark?
“I think I’m going to get those jam jars in the barn before I start the dishes.” She stood, setting the swing in a series of jerks at her sudden departure.
He rose too, with a bit more leisure. “I’ll be glad to get ’em for you.”
She told him where they were stored and retreated to the sanctuary of the house. Taking a deep breath, she seized upon the abandoned dishes, pausing on her way to the washtub to watch Rafe stroll with easy strides to the barn. Gracious, the man took her breath away. She was as agitated as a kitten in a water bucket. Why can’t I relax when he’s near?
The swing had been a great idea, and she’d enjoy cooling herself on the shaded porch in between daily tasks. But to sit beside him and carry on a conversation proved unnerving. They’d talked of all kinds of things at his parents’ house. She shook her head and decided to get to the task at hand instead of analyzing the whole situation.
She dumped the hot water from the stovetop into the tub and stepped outside to fetch another pailful. As she swung the door open, in came Rafe, and they collided. It was like hitting a brick wall.
Jubilee lost her footing until a large hand wrapped around her waist to keep her from tumbling to the floor. In a fluster, she tried to collect herself as she pulled from him, trembling from surprise and the close encounter of their bodies meeting.
“I…I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded a bit too high and loud.
A wooden box rested on one of his shoulders, a grin plastered on his face.
“I almost flattened you out.” He chuckled. “You all right?”
She brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and gave a stiff nod.
“Here. He swung the large box down and moved to deposit it on the table. “Let me get the water.”
Before she knew what he was doing, he pulled the pail from her unresponsive hand and strode out the door, leaving her in a pool of confusion. Swallowing away the start she’d received, she rubbed the base of her neck and headed back to the washtub.
The water was too hot to start on the dishes, so she wet the dishrag to swipe over the table. He was back in two shakes and poured the cool liquid into the tub, testing the temperature several times. Then, to her astonishment, he plunged his hands in.
“What are you doing?” Her voice low, she walked with hesitation toward the washtub.
“Well, at the current time, I’m searching the water for a dishrag.”
She held the cloth up to him.
“Ah. That’s the thing.” He pulled it from her hands and turned back to the tub.
“No, really, Rafe, what are you doing?”
He froze, his brow knitted. “Am I doing something wrong?”
A small smile stole across her face. “No.”
His eyebrows lifted and a dimple lit the side of his mouth. “Are you laughing at me?”
Jubilee’s grin widened, and she gave her one-shouldered shrug. “I’ve never seen a man do dishes.”
He panned an incredulous face. “You’re kidding?”
She shook her head, but the smile wouldn’t leave her face.
“Well, I’ll have you know my mother raised me right. We boys had dish duty along with my sisters. And my sisters frequently did outdoor chores.”
Jubilee tilted her head and picked up a towel to dry. “Really?”
“Yes.” He grinned with a nod of his head. “Our parents always said, ‘work is work, don’t put no gender on it.’ Yeah, I hated to hear that when time rolled around to my dish night.”
Jubilee gave a little giggle.
He stopped washing a moment but didn’t remove his hands from the water. He stared at her. “I like to hear you laugh. You should do it more often.”
She picked up another dish and refused to look at him. “I haven’t always had much to laugh at.”
He started to wash again while elevating one eyebrow. “I guess we’ll have to change that then.”
&
nbsp; Jubilee found herself smiling as quivers shimmied down her arms.
* * *
“That the sampler Sarah made?” Rafe stood in front of the fireplace the following night, peering up at the frame while Jubilee finished mashing the potatoes.
“Uh-huh.”
“Sorta’ve a strange verse. But I like your name in it.”
Her gaze flicked to the frame. “Me, too. I’m not sure what it means, but I enjoy the words, nonetheless.”
She placed the potato bowl on the table next to the fried steak and corn bread.
Rafe turned and approached the table. “It’s about God’s people, the Israelites, getting back all their possessions and family homes during the year of Jubilee.”
They sat and Rafe put out his hands to clasp hers for prayer. His huge fingers closed about hers, and she tried to concentrate on the rumble of his voice instead of the rasp of his work-roughened skin.
“Did the people sell their things or lose them?” Jubilee asked as she passed him the potatoes.
He chewed his bread, letting his eyes roam the far wall in thought. “Well, the way I understand, folks would come on hard times, and they’d sell things to make ends meet. Sometimes they would even sell themselves. But at the end of fifty years, everything was restored.”
“Huh. Since it’s 1850, I suppose this would be a year of Jubilee, then.”
He smiled. “I reckon.”
Her eyes grew serious. “If you could restore something, what would it be?”
His fork paused in mid-air and he searched her eyes. “I’d restore you.”
She caught her breath and dropped her gaze. “That’s very kind.”
He put down the utensil and reached into his pocket, then pushed a white envelope across the table. “Maybe this will help a bit.”
Sitting up straight, she glanced from him to the letter. The Orphan Society’s address was clear on the left corner. Her eyes returned to his and her mouth dropped in surprise.
“Go ahead. Open it.”
Year of Jubilee Page 14
