by Naomi Musch
"His kind? I wonder what kind it is who destroys the property of others and stirs up ruffians and harasses good, decent people?"
The man didn't answer, but his face screwed up as he lunged toward Lang. Lang expected it. He was ready when the man closed in, and Lang gave him a swift upper cut to the jaw. The man fell backward, but the other fellow charged into his place. He grabbed Lang in a bear hug and wrestled him while Lang struggled to break free. Finally pushing him off, they came together in a series of hard blows. Lang's head rung with one hit the fellow managed to land on his temple. He staggered, and the first man caught him from behind, having come to his feet. He shoved Lang at the second man who hit him again. Somewhere in the fog that started thickening over his brain, Rilla screamed.
Minutes later, Lang woke up. Two police officers hauled him to his feet and helped him off the street. He stumbled into Jacob's store where the officers sat him down and grilled him about the events that had taken place.
"We know who they were, and they'll be picked up soon enough. Do you want to press charges?"
He shook his head.
"But, Lang—"
"No." He eyed Rilla, and she didn't speak again. "Are we done here?"
The officers said they knew where he lived if they had any more questions.
Lang stood to his feet, swaying until the pounding subsided and his feet steadied. Rilla took his arm. "I'm all right. You need anything?"
"I gathered some things from her list while the police were speaking to you." Jacob nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Lang. These days it costs something to stand up for a friend."
Lang looked him up and down. He didn't know why he had done it. He didn't consider Jacob his friend. This world was screwed up, that was all. "Yeah... Well, I don't need your thanks." He turned away, pulling Rilla with him. He didn't look at her, but he felt her glancing back, probably embarrassed he hadn't accepted Jacob's thanks. Let her be. They were all screwed up.
Neither of them spoke on the way home. Lang ran his tongue over a crust of blood drying on his lip. His eye must be turning colors. The flesh on the corner of his eyebrow hung in his vision, so it must be swelling real pretty too. They were on their own road near the cabin when he felt like he owed her something. "Those guys were idiots. They got whatever I managed to give them, which I hope was something. Hessman is a good man."
"I know you didn't want him to thank you, Lang, but do you mind if I say it? Thank you for standing up for him. He could've done so for himself, but it would have made things worse."
Lang agreed. He glimpsed her face, and something different lay in her eyes. Respect, maybe. Even hope. He reached for her hand.
She squeezed it. "Lang?"
"Yeah?"
"It's probably not the best time to tell you, but I—I'm going to have another baby."
His lungs stopped inhaling. His head grew dizzy again, and he had to tell himself to breathe, had to remind himself how.
Her fingers tightened again. "I love you, Lang."
His reply came out dry, matching the crack in his lips. He hardly knew how to form them. "I love you too, Rilla." Squeeze her hand back. He made his fingers obey.
Chapter Fifteen
April 1917
Though Marilla hadn't yet begun to show, she often found herself laying her hand over her abdomen, sensing the round, safe nest in which their little one rested and grew. She would hold Lang's heart close by giving him two children to call his own. She was silly to worry he cared for Delia. Delia was her sister, after all. Of course, he cared for her. Delia was like a sister to him.
Her thoughts turned to Lang's own family somewhere out east. To Marilla they may as well have been across the sea. He had spoken about his family now and then, leaving her to wonder if they would ever chance to meet. She doubted if such a thing would happen in this life, at least not for years to come. Lang was the oldest of six siblings, three boys and three girls. She tried to remember their names. Lang, being first, was followed by Evelyn and Bethia, whom he said Marilla reminded him of. Then came Dominic, another brother Roland, and lastly little Geneva. She tried to imagine what they were like. Dark-eyed and curly-headed like Langdon perhaps? She'd never asked. What if one day they came to Wisconsin to seek out their big brother?
Lang said Geneva was only a tot of three or four when he left home at fifteen. He had not seen any of his family in a decade. Bethia was Marilla's own age, and little Geneva would be almost as old as Lang was when he had gone away. How hard it must have been for them to lose him, but he had told her they couldn't afford for him to stay. Not with so many mouths to feed. Whether or not he ever yearned to see them again, he didn't say. He said almost nothing about his father, only that he worked hard to make ends meet, and he had died sometime after Lang left home. He said his mother carried the weight of caring for them all in more ways than she should. Marilla didn't know what he meant.
None of that mattered so much now anyway since she and Lang had their own family to love and care for. He hadn't been overly excited about her news, but it was understandable. It was up to him to provide for them, and a baby was a serious matter. So she intended to put away her petty, jealous notions and make his job as pleasant for him as she could. If only she could muster up some energy.
Marilla was tired a lot. All the time actually. Having reached her third month, she wondered if she would ever start to feel like herself again. Still, she got up when Emmett cried for his five a.m. feeding and rarely lay back down, though she did sleep through Lang's rising in the morning at four to make his way to her father's barn for milking. Her mother was kind enough to feed Lang breakfast with her pa, but it made Marilla's mornings lonesome.
Now that the weather was improving, Marilla occasionally bundled the baby up in mid-morning and went over to the main house to help with the churning and to find adult company. Delia did as well. As much as Marilla had looked forward to marriage and running her own home with Lang, she missed the time with her family, especially the mornings they spent together. Delia expressed similar thoughts. She'd had to convince Theo she really wanted to keep helping on her parents' farm. She didn't sell eggs or butter like Marilla did. Theo's job on the railroad took care of their finances. She did like to keep busy, though, since there were still no babies on the way, and the house was brand new and needed little attention.
Today Marilla tucked a blanket around the squirming baby and left the cabin. The sun had warmed the ground around the cabin enough for dead browns to give way to green in places where the sunlight could spend itself, turning her thoughts to the garden she hoped to plant this year. She didn't know where she would find the energy, but the garden was a necessity, and she couldn't imagine not planting, hoeing, and nurturing fresh vegetables into a fine crop. Even though her plot was small, it could provide her and Lang with plenty of good eating through the mid to late summer, and even some canned food for winter. Emmett was starting to eat some of the food she mashed for him, and his tongue would work like crazy watching them eat.
Hiking the short distance to the farm, she thought she might find Delia working at the butter churn. It was too late for her to still be milking. Marilla dodged a puddle and mounted the steps, letting herself into the house.
"Mama," she called as she closed the door. "It's me."
"We're in the front room." Her mother could usually be found washing breakfast dishes and working on some other task in the kitchen this time of day, and that was where Marilla expected to see Delia, so she was surprised to find the kitchen wasn't yet tidied up. She hiked the baby onto one hip while she loosened her boots and removed them, then pattered into the front room. "What's everyone doing?" Delia sat on the davenport holding her mother's hands. Her brow was bent in consternation. Concern stabbed through Marilla. "What is it?"
"Bring me the baby." Mama held out her arms for Emmett, giving Marilla the chance to remove her coat and scarf.
Delia faced her. "You haven't heard? The president has asked congress for a
declaration of war."
Marilla's movements slowed. "War?"
"It's in the paper."
Marilla and Lang seldom got the paper. Her father picked up a Sunday paper after church each week, but Theo liked to keep abreast of all the latest news.
"Are you sure?"
"I read it myself: 'U.S. Declares War. Pacific Battle Widens'. It even said hostile planes had been sighted at San Francisco."
Marilla wasn't sure how to feel. Could war touch them here?
Then Delia's eyes welled, and her shaky words struck deep. "Theo says he'll join. If there's a call, he'll sign up." She gulped a sob.
Marilla dropped onto the sofa beside her sister and laid a hand on her shoulder. "He'll really leave you?"
"He reads about it all the time. He says we have to help. If we don't, the Krauts will take over the free world. Sorry, Mama," she added, blinking at her mother.
Mama frowned at the slur, despite Delia's apology. "We needn't speak of them so."
Marilla had told her family about what had happened to Jacob Hessman. They hadn't been surprised. Other citizens with German heritage had suffered various degrees of harassment all across the state.
"I'm not talking about our neighbors, Mama. I'm talking about them. The Germans. Over there. The ones killing all those French and British boys and all the rest."
"The world has gone mad."
"They say the life expectancy of a British pilot is three weeks. Three weeks!" Tears spilled onto her cheeks.
Emmett cooed. In Marilla's shock, she didn't know what to say. She turned to the baby. They all did. Mama bounced him on her knee and kissed his head.
War. What would Lang say? Surely he wouldn't want to rush off and join up. "What did Daddy say?" she asked.
Mama smoothed Emmett's soft curls. "Very little. He is worried, of course. But he is too old to fight, so he will stay and continue on the farm."
"And Lang?"
They stared at her. Delia shook her head. "He said nothing. I don't know what he is thinking."
So. Lang hadn't told Delia whatever lay on his mind about the United States going to war. That was something at least.
~~~~~
Lang left the bank and strode the seven blocks toward Angus Ferndale's house and service station on the north side of town. Angus always had three or four cars for sale, and Lang had been looking at one reasonably priced 1913 Model T touring car for a while. Longer than Rilla would have liked. He knew how she felt about them buying a car right now. She had her dreams for a bigger house, but Lang was determined she wouldn't be driving that wagon back and forth to town any longer. Not with another little one on the way.
A baby... Emmett would have barely passed his first birthday. Lang had not expected fatherhood to come so fast. What would it be like when Emmett grew older? The thought was something too hard to imagine. Would his son want to grow up like his father? Would Lang even be with them then? There were times when the dream of being with Delia never felt further away. But now the country was going to war, and Theo was anxious to jump into the fray.
Lang shook his head. Theo didn't know what kind of trouble he was getting into. War was hardship and bitterness. It was seldom the glory Theo thought it was. Lang remembered the stories his father and uncles taught him about previous wars, or maybe it was the way they had been told. Surely Theo had studied history. He knew its bloody cost. Lang would stay as far from this war as he could. If Theo wanted to go and fight and get himself killed, that was up to him. Lang would be the one who stayed behind and picked up the pieces, comforting the woman he loved. The woman they both loved.
Rilla. Her tender gaze and soft smile appeared in his thoughts. What about her? He loved her too. It just wasn't with the same burning heat he loved Delia. The same need didn't pull her into his heart. The same desire didn't cause him to give her his heart in return. Rilla was a good woman. Someday she would let him go and find herself an equally good man. Lang wasn't a good man. He wasn't good to have done this to her, yet he wouldn't have done anything differently. Now he was a father and would be again by the time this US involvement in war came into full swing. He should embrace fatherhood. Delia liked to see him doting on his children.
He found Angus wiping his greasy hands on a rag, anxious to make a sale. If it hadn't felt good handing over his hard-earned cash, it did feel good getting behind the wheel and driving off in his own motor car. Rilla would see it was just good sense.
He honked the horn as he pulled into the grassy driveway in front of the cabin. Rilla appeared in the doorway with Emmett riding her hip. She wore the expression of one trying to figure out who could be coming to her home. When Lang climbed out, her eyes widened and her mouth formed an O. Yet, she didn't presume.
"Who's motor car?"
"Ours." Lang rubbed a hand across the hood. "She's a beauty, isn't she?"
"She?"
"The car."
"You—you bought a car?"
He gave an assertive nod. "Yep. I'm tired of it, Rilla. I'm tired of watching you heading into town or church in that wagon when it's cold out and wet, and there's no protection for you and Emmett. You deserve better." He walked to her. She had come off the stoop and stood there staring, perplexity still pasted on her brow. He lifted Emmett from her arms and put a hand on her back. "Come take a look. I'm going to teach you how to drive it so you can go wherever you want, whenever you want.
"You want to go to that study group? Now you can, rain or shine. You have trouble getting Emmett ready for church on Sunday? Now you don't have to worry about being late. You can even drive it to the farm. Look at how much room there is in the back." He led her close, coaxing her with his own excitement. They peered over the window frame into both the front and rear seats. "You can haul just as much as you normally do with the wagon, and there'll be room for the children."
She glanced at him, still appearing uncertain, but he could sense he was winning her. "Can you imagine how nice it will be for you to tuck Emmett on the seat out of the cold in the winter or the hot summer sun and be able to get your butter to town before it melts? You know"—He paused to kiss her temple—"a motor car is a good tool on a modern farm. Look at how handy it's been for Theo's family. You can consider it an investment in our future."
"I suppose so," she murmured.
"Come on." He steered her around the side.
"Where are we going?"
He opened the door and ushered her in, settling Emmett on her lap once her skirts were tucked inside. "For a ride. Just for fun." He cranked the engine, trotted around to the driver's side, and opened the door with a creak. Backing out of the drive, he headed up the road and then turned at the corner heading east. He peeked at her. She settled back against the seat and adjusted her shoulders. Her gaze wandered over the inside of the vehicle with a curious expression. Finally, he caught her eyes and smiled.
Her lips tipped in a bow. "I guess I could get used to this."
He reached across the seat and squeezed her hand. "I know you will. I tell you, Rilla, I'll feel a lot better knowing you don't have to hitch up the horse every time you need to go somewhere. You have enough work every day to keep your hands full, and now with another baby coming..." Her aqua blue eyes shone into his. He realized it was the first time he had mentioned the new baby since she'd given him the news. He released her hand and rubbed Emmett's head. "Your baby brother or sister is going to get first place on Mama's lap before you know it, big guy. You'd better enjoy getting all the attention while you can."
The baby pulled his soggy fist from his mouth and flailed. Rilla giggled. Lang congratulated himself for having done the right thing. He couldn't love Rilla like she deserved, but he could do for her as he was able. Someday she'd have the home she wanted. It might not be Lang who gave it to her but someone else entirely. In the meantime, he would provide for her what he could and show her affection as best he was able.
"Let's drive to the river." He drove a few miles and then turned onto a na
rrow lane that dead-ended at a turnaround where fishermen, swimmers, and occasionally lovers parked. No one was there today. The water was still too high from melting snow for good fishing, and the nip of winter was barely passed. Lovers on the other hand...
He turned the car around and parked it. As he shut the engine off, the quiet of the countryside fell over them. He turned in the seat and took Emmett from Rilla, tucking him between them. He smiled down at the little boy and laced a hand behind Rilla's neck. He pulled her close for a kiss. As they separated, he took hold of her hands.
"Rilla, I don't know what's going to happen with this war. But I figured if worse comes to worse, I won't have to worry about you as long as you have the car and your parents close by."
"Lang..." Her eyes widened.
"It's all right. I don't plan on going anywhere. And like they say, once we get into it, we'll send those Germans packing in no time. I only want to be prepared. Just in case. Besides, if Theo should go—"
"He wants to. Delia said so. He's itching to fight and I don't know why. He's got a good job, and Delia loves him so."
Lang turned his head and looked out at the woods, pushing her words down with a swallow. "Yes, I know. But that's who Theo is. He wants to be a hero."
"You're a hero." Her words gushed out, and she grasped his hands. "You're all the hero I'll ever need or ever want. Thank you, Lang, honey, for not wanting to leave me and go traipsing across the world. I need to have you here. Daddy needs you here. We need you." She looked at Emmett and then her nearly flat belly where she rested one hand.
He wanted to argue with her that she didn't need him, but someday she would figure that out. "I suppose we should get home. I promised your father I'd start work on sharpening those plow blades. It'll be time to turn the fields before we know it."
Her voice held yearning. "One more kiss before we go."
He looked long at her, then he laced his hand behind her neck again. Her lashes lowered over her eyes. Her eyes... They were beautiful though.
