Jeb's Wife

by Patricia Johns

  “Leah, if you’d just think about it—” Simon started.

  “Simon, stop talking,” she said, turning to give him a baleful look.

  She wouldn’t even admit to thinking over his shameful idea. What would he have her do, give her body up to a lonely man in exchange for money? Jeb might have a fair number of rumors swirling around him to do with his dead wife, but he’d not once shown an inclination to be unchaste, even after her death. If she was desperate enough to offer her body, he wouldn’t accept it—of that, she was utterly certain. Would Simon have her just pretend to feel something for a man in order to manipulate him? The very thought was revolting to her. She had lived her life so far by the Amish faith and her desire to please God. She wouldn’t start lying now, or manipulating. If a woman lost her integrity, what did she have left? There had to be some answer that allowed her to stay on the narrow path, to keep her dignity and to protect her brother.

  Lord, help us! she prayed silently. I don’t know what we’ll do!

  And yet her brother might be right that Jeb King was their hope of a loan. But Jeb was a peculiar man. He’d always been a bit of a loner, keeping to himself. But there were the rumors . . . He and his wife, Katie, hadn’t been exactly happy, and the Amish didn’t divorce. There were some people who suggested that her death was highly convenient to Jeb. And there were others who argued that if he’d let her die purposefully, why would he have rushed into the flames and been so badly hurt? But the fact remained, after his time in the hospital healing from the burns, Jeb became even more of a hermit than he’d been before, loyal to a dead wife. So, if Jeb King was their solution, she had no idea what would soften him.

  Jeb was a man with a past, a man with scars, and she didn’t entirely trust him. He was huge—muscular and intimidating. If he offered help, she’d accept it, but she wouldn’t go courting trouble with someone like him.

  Leah turned her attention to her more immediate concerns, and that was making dinner. She needed a meal that would make up for the inconvenience her brother had already caused Jeb. This meal was supposed to be a celebration of her coming home again for the summer, and now it was turning into payment for a steak to help her brother’s face heal, and perhaps a payment for the man’s silence about what he’d witnessed today.

  “Simon, you will bring the food to Jeb at six o’clock,” she said.

  “I’m not the one he wants to see,” Simon countered.

  “I’m not going to use my feminine wiles to manipulate a man into giving us money! If you want a loan from Jeb King, you’re going to have to gain his good opinion on your own. I’m not doing it for you.”

  “He doesn’t like me,” Simon said.

  “He’s picked you up and dusted you off three times that I know off so far!” she retorted. “He thought you were worth that much bother. He’s our neighbor, and if, as you say, he’s our only hope, then I suggest you convince him of it yourself.”

  Simon was silent. Leah pulled down a container of breadcrumbs and some spices in preparation for fried chicken. Her cooking might be good, but it wasn’t worth fifty thousand dollars to anyone.

  “Okay,” Simon said after a moment of silence.

  “And I suggest you spend some time in prayer before you go,” she added. “Because what you’re asking for isn’t a favor, it’s a miracle.”

  Right now, she was thankful that she wasn’t beautiful enough or even desirable enough to lure a man, even one who had lost as much as Jeb had. It took away the temptation to use her looks for her own benefit. That kind of thing could change a woman if she weren’t careful ...

  * * *

  Jeb dumped the last load of manure into the pile beside the horse barn. He had more work to do tonight after dinner—the cow barn hadn’t been mucked out yet, and there was a bottle-fed calf in there that would need another bottle before bed. He pulled off his gloves, then wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

  The day had been a hot one, and working the farm alone was a huge amount of work. After the funeral, some men from the community had come to lend a hand, but he’d assured them that if he needed some extra help, he’d get Menno to pitch in. That had been enough to make the other men feel better about going back to their own work and ceasing to worry about him. Except Jeb and Menno had never really gotten along, and he knew full well that he was sending away honest help to work this land alone.

  It might be backbreaking labor, but he preferred it this way. He could work alone without the scrutiny of the other men who’d compare notes later over their fences, no doubt. He was an oddity, and people looked at him funny when he passed by in town. He’d spent this much time alone that it actually felt good to continue it. It felt safer.

  He pulled a watch out of his pants and looked at the time. It was almost six—Leah would be coming by the house soon with that promised fried chicken. His stomach rumbled at the thought, but it wasn’t just his own hunger that made him pick up his pace as he headed to the pump to wash off before he went back to the house.

  Maybe he was lonelier than he thought if he was looking forward to having a woman look in to his miserable little kitchen.

  He’d already written off his idea of a marriage of convenience as stupid. She was beautiful and sweet, a good cook ... she’d marry. She could even go to another community. But he couldn’t quite let go of her money worries.

  Fifty thousand dollars—that number had made his chest tighten, too. It was a lot of money, and he had no idea how she and Simon would scrape it together. If they didn’t, would Jeb be physically intimidating enough to make a difference if those Englishers came at Simon again?

  He’d have to be with him for that to work, and right now, Jeb didn’t have the money to pay an employee. Every time he thought he’d figured out a way to help, it fell flat. Simon had certainly made his own bed.

  As he came toward the pump, which was just past the garden and before the chicken coop, he saw Simon sitting on the step, a basket beside him. Jeb sighed. So, she hadn’t come, after all.

  It shouldn’t matter.

  Jeb heaved the pump and a gush of warm water flowed out onto his outstretched hand. He rubbed his hands and splashed the water over his arms, then heaved the handle again. The next gush of water was considerably colder, and he rubbed the water over his cheeks and let it run through his beard. Still dripping but significantly cleaner, he headed toward the house. Simon stood up as he approached.

  He’d rather leave Simon outside, but he couldn’t exactly do that.

  “Best come in,” Jeb said. “I’ll get you that steak.”

  “Thanks,” Simon replied.

  Jeb picked up the basket, the aroma of fried chicken and potatoes wafting up to meet him. It smelled amazing—better than he’d been cooking for himself these days. He pushed open the side door, going inside first and letting Simon come in after him, delaying the inevitable judgment for a few seconds.

  The kitchen table was covered in various tools and dishes he used on a regular basis, one end clear for him to eat.

  “Sit down,” Jeb said. “You’re sore still, I’m sure.”

  Simon’s gaze moved around the dusty kitchen in a slow perusal.

  “Yah.” Simon’s voice was slightly breathy as he bent down to undo his boots.

  “Leave them,” Jeb said. He took off his own boots, which had been in the manure, leaving them by the door, then he deposited the basket on the table. Simon sank into a kitchen chair. Simon’s face was puffy and raw still.

  Jeb opened the icebox and took out the paper-wrapped steak, then tossed it on the table in front of the younger man. Then he pushed a hammer, a plastic bucket of nails, and a chipped but clean pitcher aside to make more room, opened the basket, and pulled out the dishes of food.

  “Your sister’s a good cook,” Jeb said. It was what men said. It was a compliment to be sent back. “It smells great.”

  “Yah . . .” There was something in Simon’s voice that made Jeb look up at him. “
She’s a good cook.”

  “You shouldn’t take advantage of her like this,” Jeb said. “A man your age should be making a full-time living, not working odd jobs. She looks like she’s under a lot of strain.”

  And he knew what an unhappy woman looked like. He’d been married to one.

  “I would work if I could find the position,” Simon replied.

  “Right.” Jeb didn’t believe that. It was just another excuse from a lazy ne’er-do-well.

  “I haven’t been a good man,” Simon said. “I know it, and it’s going to change. I’ve gone too far. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” But what he’d rather see was results.

  “Still, it’s hard for someone with my reputation to get a good job,” Simon went on. “You know that full well.”

  Was that a jab at Jeb’s own reputation, or a plea for understanding? Jeb looked at Simon for a few seconds until Simon squirmed and dropped his gaze.

  “I’m not in a position to help,” Jeb replied curtly.

  “You might be.”

  Jeb laughed bitterly. This was rather forward. “My cousin will be taking over this farm in a matter of weeks.”

  Simon eyed him for a moment, his one puffy eye narrowing as he squinted. “But you want to keep this place?”

  Jeb sighed. “Not that it’s your business, but that isn’t possible.”

  “You said you had to be married to inherit,” Simon pressed. “Didn’t you?”

  “And I’m not,” Jeb retorted. Nor would he ever marry again. He was done with that.

  “What if you could find a wife soon enough?” Simon asked.

  “I’m not interested,” Jeb snapped. What did this young idiot know about marriage? Jeb had inflicted himself on a woman for long enough, and that was when he was whole and healthy. Now, he was hardly the kind of man a woman wanted, and he wouldn’t attempt marriage again.

  “Here’s the thing,” Simon said. “My sister is the kindest, sweetest woman in Abundance. She’s honest, she’s good, and she’s taken care of me ever since our parents died. She’s put me ahead of herself for far too long. I thought she’d finally get a chance at her own happiness with Matthew Schrock. He was going to marry her until he found out she couldn’t have children.”

  Jeb froze. So that was what happened?

  “Why can’t she?” Jeb asked feebly. This definitely was not his business, but he hadn’t stopped the words from coming out of his mouth soon enough.

  “Leah has something that didn’t form right inside, and that’s the result. Matthew wasn’t willing to face a life with no kinner, so he dumped her. I was furious. They could have adopted, maybe, or . . . I don’t even know. But she loved him with her whole heart, and he crushed her.”

  Jeb didn’t answer that. It was a lot of information, and it only made him feel worse for Leah.

  “My sister won’t marry, Jeb,” Simon went on, pleading in his eyes. “Not with her condition, and she’s already thirty.”

  “I think you’re being a little loose with your sister’s private business,” Jeb muttered.

  “I see the way you look at her. You think she’s beautiful—and she is! But we need fifty thousand dollars, and you need a wife,” Simon said. “I know this is crude, and trust me, my sister has no idea I’m even bringing this up. But I have an idea that might help us all. If you could get legally married in time, this land is yours. That solves your problem. You’d own this land free and clear and wouldn’t have to uproot and find some other way to make do. And if you inherit this land, then I’m thinking there’s a way for you get your hands on the money we need. . . .”

  There was a certain amount in a bank account that came with the inheritance, as far as Jeb understood, so the kid had a point. He’d already considered this very option and discarded it. He eyed Simon distrustfully.

  “And I know that you and Leah wouldn’t be marrying for love, but I also know my sister. She’d learn to love you, and given any amount of time with her, I think you’d fall headlong in love with her, too.”

  “You don’t know what I want, Simon,” Jeb warned. “Marriage is tricky. It isn’t just a matter of a good cook and a good farmer.”

  “She has no other marriage options. If she doesn’t want to do this, she’ll stay single. I think she deserves a chance at cooking for a husband instead of her brother. She needs more than me.”

  “And this is all about her happiness, and not about the money,” Jeb said dryly.

  “Look, the money factors in,” Simon said. “I’d be lying if I wasn’t thinking about it. I was trying to be brave in front of my sister, but I’m scared.”

  Jeb rubbed his hand over his mouth, then turned away. How much did he trust Simon’s version of things? Simon had fifty thousand dollars to gain if they decided on this plan...

  “You think I’ll only rack up the debt again,” Simon interjected.

  “It occurred to me,” Jeb replied.

  “I’d promise you, between men, that I’ll go straight. No more risk or bad behavior. I’ll work the farm for you, if you want. But you won’t have to worry about me again if you give me that money to pay off my debt. I’ll swear to God Himself.”

  Jeb winced at the wording. “Don’t toy with God, boy.”

  “I’m not toying.”

  Jeb licked his lips, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Do you think she’s attractive?” Simon asked tentatively.

  “Don’t ask me about that,” Jeb retorted.

  “I’m just saying, she’ll make a good wife, given the chance, and by the looks of things around here, you could use a woman—”

  “Shut your mouth, boy!” Jeb snapped. “Don’t think you can solve a man’s bitterness by throwing an available woman at him.”

  Simon paled slightly but didn’t open his mouth again. Jeb stood there, the smell of the chicken and potatoes curling temptingly toward him. Yah, he thought she was beautiful, but he’d seen the way she’d recoiled from him.

  “I know you want to see her married, but does she want marriage?” Jeb asked at last. “Even without kinner?”

  “I think it’s worth discussing, the three of us,” Simon replied, but a smile was already tugging at his lips. He sensed victory.

  Maybe he wouldn’t be so averse to the idea of a woman in this house again. With some safeguards, of course. His gaze moved toward the window, where he could see a corner of the barn and the broad expanse of garden with the leafy rows of vegetables.

  This land that he’d worked for fifteen years, the barn they’d rebuilt together as a community, the acre after acre of memories and sweat ...

  Menno was the cousin who’d looked down on him for years, and who’d let him work his father’s farm without ever once suggesting he pitch in and help. Having Menno taking this place over would be a blow, and if there was a way to keep it, maybe it was worth the conversation.

  He peeled the foil off the first dish and put two chunky pieces of fried chicken on his plate. The third piece he passed to Simon.

  “I’ve already eaten,” Simon said.

  “Eat more,” Jeb retorted. “I don’t like people staring at me while I eat.”

  A woman. A wife ... Did he dare even entertain the thought of marriage again? He’d been disappointment enough for his first wife. But there was a tiny finger of hope that wormed up inside him. There were certain pleasures of having a woman in his home—the food at mealtime, that soft scent of whatever it was women used that made them smell so feminine. It used to linger in the upstairs hallway ... He hadn’t remembered it until now.

  Was he just as foolish as Simon here to even be considering this?

  Chapter Three

  Leah dried the last fork and put it back into the drawer. The summer sun hung low and golden in the sky, but it would be past bedtime before it actually got dark. She stood with the damp dish towel in her hand, her mind spinning.

  Maybe she should go to the bishop . . . but what if this was the
last straw for her brother and they sent him away? What if this was the rejection that would push her brother right out of their community for good? She’d promised God that she’d do her best by her little brother, and she’d been afraid that he’d go English for some time now. Besides, as Simon pointed out, it wouldn’t protect her if she stayed here and he left. And it wouldn’t protect their community. When wicked men wanted their money, they’d stop at nothing to get it. There seemed no way to fix this. What she wouldn’t do to go back to the days when her brother’s antics were reparable, like when he’d stolen candy from a store and she marched him right back over and made him give it back and apologize. It wasn’t so easy anymore, and the consequences could be deadly.

  A pile of bloodstained cloths were still on the kitchen table, and she gathered them up and tossed them into the laundry hamper. Tears welled in her eyes at the memory of her brother’s bleeding face.

  “He’s an idiot,” she muttered, and she grabbed a cloth and a spray bottle of vinegar and water. “He’ll get himself killed for a game of cards!”

  Except it wasn’t so simple as that. He’d been pulled in, and the more he struggled, the harder they pulled, like spiders in a web. She scoured the tabletop, scrubbing with all her strength. She hated feeling so helpless.

  The side door opened, and she looked up to see both Simon and Jeb. They came into the kitchen and Jeb bent down to take off his boots. She eyed them uncertainly. What had happened out there? Did the men come to some sort of agreement?

  “You’re back, then,” she said, and her voice sounded strangled in her own ears.

  “Yah.” Simon came inside and dropped the paper-wrapped steak onto the freshly washed table. He pulled out a pocketknife and cut the string.

  “Sit,” Leah said, and when her brother was seated, she carefully laid the piece of meat over his eye.

  “Thank you for seeing him home,” Leah said, nodding toward Jeb. “It’s appreciated.”