Jeb's Wife

by Patricia Johns

  “I promise,” Jeb murmured.

  “And do you, Leah, take Jebadiah King to be your husband? Do you promise to support him and love him, to respect him and be faithful to him in all things? Do you promise to seek God with him and only be a blessing to him for all your days until death parts you?”

  There was a beat of silence. “I promise.”

  Jeb let out a pent-up breath. She hadn’t run ... He only realized in this moment that he’d half-expected her to.

  “Then I pronounce upon you the blessing of Abraham and Sarah,” the bishop said, raising his voice, “the blessing of Isaac and Rebecca, the blessing of Jacob and Rachel. May your marriage be long and fruitful.” The bishop smiled, then paused meaningfully. “You are wed.”

  There was clapping from both sides of the congregation, and then Jeb and Leah sat back down again.

  There would be another sermon yet ... but Jeb’s heart pattered hard in his chest. It was done. He was married to this woman, and their life together would begin. He looked over at Leah. Her gaze was locked on her lap, her lips parted. Her chest rose and fell with her breathing, and just at the base of her neck, he could see the flutter of her pulse. Jeb could only guess at what she was thinking, but as of right now, Leah was his wife, and he felt a sudden surge of protectiveness rise up inside him at that realization. His wife.

  Whatever their reasons, whatever they both stood to gain from this marriage, they were now joined, and she was his to provide for and care for. He would do well by her. He’d do his best.

  Here was hoping that this time, it was enough.

  Chapter Five

  The sun had started to set, dusky shadows growing long, and guests were leaving at long last. Leah had slipped off by herself, away from the chatting groups of well-wishers, and around the side of the house where no eyes were on her. She felt tired, and happy, celebrated. She was a wife at long last, and she would be accepted. Somehow, she’d half-expected something to stop this event, but it hadn’t, and now she was a fully married woman.

  She looked around the corner at the few people who remained. Jeb stood with some men. He was listening to something one of the men was saying, nodding slowly. Marital advice? They’d both be given some. Leah knew how this worked.

  For years she’d dreamed of getting married, and year after year, she’d sat on the women’s side and watched as girls younger than her became wives. Then Sunday services, she’d watch those young wives as their families grew. Their lives had truly begun—a husband, a home, kinner . . . and Leah had stayed lonely.

  Sometimes she felt like her name had been a curse. Leah, of the Bible, was one of Jacob’s two wives, and she hadn’t been loved by her husband. Rachel, the other wife, had been deeply loved, and Leah had been forced to watch her husband adore his other wife while paying Leah the respect that was due her and nothing more. Back then, the “respect” resulted in children of her own, but it never included his heart.

  That was a pain that Leah had understood. She’d watched so many Amish girls move on to have the family life she craved. She’d watched Matthew court someone else, and she realized something when that happened—watching another’s happiness from the outside could suck a soul dry given enough time.

  But Leah was an Amish woman, and she didn’t live in biblical times. She’d never have to share a husband. That was some comfort. Instead, the man she’d loved simply married another woman, leaving Leah free to marry a man who didn’t love her, and whom she didn’t love either.

  Leah, the unloved. Would being married be enough? It hadn’t been for her biblical counterpart.

  Rosmanda came around the corner and laughed softly.

  “There you are,” she whispered. “We have to talk . . .”

  “Is something wrong?” Leah turned toward her friend.

  “No, nothing’s wrong,” Rosmanda said, and then she laughed again. “I’ve been voted the one to tell you about ... tonight.”

  Heat washed over Leah’s face as she understood what Rosmanda was getting at. The wedding night and the expectations. A mamm normally gave this talk, but Leah didn’t have a mamm to do it.

  “I know that this is how things normally work, Rosie, but I’m sure I’ll figure out what I need to know,” Leah said.

  “Every woman has this talk,” Rosmanda said, not to be dissuaded. “It’s important. Before you’re married, no one tells you anything. But now that you’re wed, there are some things you’d better know up front. Just trust me on that.”

  Leah looked toward Jeb again, and this time, his gaze met Leah’s for a moment as Rosmanda tugged her toward the house, and Leah’s heart sped up with anxiety. Very soon, they’d be able to leave, but tonight they’d have to share a bedroom.

  Rosmanda led Leah into the side door that led into the kitchen. Women were doing dishes and cleaning up, and when they saw Leah, they smiled in good humor.

  “You’re lucky this isn’t your parents’ house.” One laughed. “You and Jeb would be washing up in the morning!”

  “We can come back, and—” Leah started.

  “She’s teasing you,” Rosmanda said.

  “Are you coming to the games night on Saturday?” the woman asked.

  “For at least two weeks, we should expect absolutely nothing from the newlyweds.” Another woman chuckled. “Or that they’ll arrive very, very late.”

  “For a month,” an older woman said, and the other laughed. “A full month!”

  “Come. Let’s go upstairs,” Rosmanda said. “We need some quiet.”

  A couple of older women gave Leah a knowing look as she went up, and then the clatter and laughter was behind them as Rosmanda tugged her into her daughters’ bedroom, where she’d been preparing for her wedding just hours before.

  “There,” Rosmanda said, shutting the door firmly behind them. “Now, sit down, because we don’t have much time. Jeb is going to be hitching up the buggy soon.”

  Leah did as Rosmanda told her, and she sank onto the side of one of the twin beds. There was a neatly stitched quilt on top done in blues and white. Leah ran her fingers over the pattern, then looked up at her friend. Rosmanda didn’t sit. She stood in the center of the room, and then she rubbed her hands over her face.

  “This is harder than you’d think,” Rosmanda murmured. “I’ve been married twice and I’m pregnant with my third child, and this is still hard to talk about.”

  “Then leave it,” Leah said. “I don’t need this, Rosie—”

  Rosmanda had no idea how very little Leah needed this talk.

  “Oh, stop that,” Rosmanda said, and she dropped her hands. “Hard things are the most important. Now, the first thing to remember is that your wedding night is going to be awkward. It just is. Whatever romantic dreams you have for tonight—let them go. It’s going to be awkward, but wonderful. Luckily for you, Jeb has been married before, so at least he knows the basics. But the best advice I can give to you is to take your time tonight. Don’t rush things. And don’t let him rush things either! Talk together, let him hold you, just relax. Because if you rush it, you’ll hate it, and that’s a terrible way to start a marriage—”

  Leah shut her eyes for a moment. This lecture was entirely unnecessary. She and Jeb weren’t going to be taking part in regular honeymoon activities, and the last thing Leah wanted was to hear the practical advice on how to make it all happen.

  “Can we please skip this part?” Leah asked. “Like you said, Jeb’s been married before. And I think I know enough. If I need advice after tonight, I’ll come and ask, all right?”

  Rosmanda nodded slowly. “You are still due some marriage advice, though.”

  “Like what? A good recipe?” Leah joked.

  “No, as in how to be married,” Rosmanda replied, refusing to even smile at Leah’s humor. This time she came to the bed and sank down onto the mattress next to her. “The conjugal part isn’t the only part of marriage. But I do have a bit of advice that might serve you well.”

  Leah looked
over at her friend. Rosmanda’s gaze turned inward. “This, I could use.”

  “My best advice is to never stop flirting with him,” Rosmanda began. “Remember what it was like when you were courting, and don’t lose that. You see, once a man is married, the chase is over, and for some men it feels like the excitement is over, too. He’s already won. But if you keep flirting with him, teasing him a little bit, tempting him, sharing special smiles with him . . . If you don’t stop those things, it keeps the fun alive in your marriage. Give him everything you’re afraid another woman might offer him. Does that make sense? If you’re ever insecure, then love him so well that you know he could never find another woman to love him as deeply and passionately as you do.”

  Leah dropped her gaze. All too much of her friend’s advice was not going to apply to her, because it all seemed tied up in that conjugal bed they had already agreed not to share. And she knew that Rosmanda and Levi had a very happy marriage. They were in love, and she’d often seen Levi catching Rosmanda around the waist or giving her a kiss when no one else was supposed to be looking. Their marriage was a passionate one, and Leah didn’t need reminders of what she’d never have.

  “And when we fight?” Leah asked, hoping to change the tone of this talk.

  “Make up with equal passion,” Rosmanda replied. “Let the dishes stay in the sink and let the floor stay dirty that night if it has to, but you go upstairs and keep those priorities straight.”

  Leah nodded. Did any of this advice happen in the kitchen? Rosmanda was the wrong woman to give this talk. Leah needed a stalwart older lady rife with scripture and warnings, with advice about praying together and turning their focus to God instead of each other. That would make this easier.

  “I know you don’t know him well,” Rosmanda said, her tone dropping. “I know this is awkward right now. But being his wife ... Leah, it’s the closest you can ever be to a man if you love him well. If you open your heart to him, and you cradle his with as much care as you can, the intimacy you will share will never be matched. Some people say it’s like having a best friend, but I disagree. It’s like being partners in a battle—having a warrior defending your back. And it’s having a lover ... for life. A man who cherishes and understands you—”

  It would be none of those things, and Leah felt tears prick her eyes.

  “And if he doesn’t cherish me?” Leah interrupted.

  Rosmanda looked at her, silent.

  “If he doesn’t?” Leah pressed. “Perhaps having a good friend in marriage is a good thing. I don’t think I need him to cherish me. I could be happy with something less.”

  “Perhaps . . .” Rosmanda said quietly, but she was looking at Leah with a funny look on her face. Leah was saying too much, and she knew it. It was the emotional stress of the day, and her natural inhibitions seemed to be reduced.

  “I’m just tired, I think,” Leah said, forcing a smile.

  “Marriage is going to be wonderful, Leah,” Rosmanda said, taking her hand. “It will be. I’m not saying it won’t be hard work, too, but it will be worth it.”

  Leah nodded, then rose to her feet. “Thank you. But I wish you would just give me a good recipe and be done with it.”

  Rosmanda laughed. “Put more milk in your piecrust.”

  “What?”

  “That’s your problem. You always complain it’s not flaky enough, and it needs more liquid, not less.”

  “Oh, ouch . . .” Leah smiled hesitantly. “But you see? That was helpful.”

  “I’m glad.” But there was still a certain amount of sadness in Rosmanda’s gaze.

  Leah went to the door and pulled it open. The sound of the women chatting downstairs as they washed dishes filtered back up to her.

  “Leah?” Rosmanda said, and Leah turned back. “Don’t feel pressured into anything. You can say no. That is part of a relationship, too. That’s the last I’ll say on the matter.”

  Leah gave her friend a reassuring smile.

  “Thank you for the beautiful wedding, Rosie. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you.”

  Rosmanda gave her a misty nod. Then Leah headed out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Jeb was going to drive her back to the house she shared with her brother, and they’d spend their first night under her family’s roof as a married couple. It was tradition, after all.

  Tonight was her wedding night, and Leah’s heartbeat sped up in her chest.

  He’d abide by their agreement, wouldn’t he? Rosmanda’s advice was wasted ... wasn’t it?

  * * *

  Over on Jeb’s own farm, some of the men had pitched in to complete his chores so that he’d have tonight with his wife. It was a kind gesture, something the community did for every newly married farmer for his first night of marriage. So, after he had unhitched the horses and finished settling the animals for the night with Simon’s help, they headed through the twilight into the house.

  Jeb’s stomach was in knots. This was it—their wedding night. And while they’d both been pretty clear on expectations, they’d be spending the night in the same house.

  Leah was at the sink. She wrung out a cloth and hung it over the tap. The kitchen was spotless—gleaming counters, a swept floor ... a whole lot cleaner than the kitchen waiting for her in his own house, and he felt a wave of shame at that. He’d done his best to clean up in the days coming up to the wedding, but he still had the sense that it was in bad shape. It didn’t look like this, that was for sure.

  Simon headed for a pie on the counter—already half-consumed. He got a plate, then dished himself up a healthy slice. It looked like cherry. Jeb couldn’t eat if he tried right now, and he looked over at Leah. The color rose in her cheeks, as if she were thinking the same thing. How were they going to do this? Were they going to sit up late into the night, avoiding the obvious and stuffing themselves with food they didn’t want to eat?

  “We should turn in,” Leah said, and her tone was resolute—determined.

  That answered that.

  “Yah. Okay.” Jeb looked uncomfortably toward Simon. “I’ll be up early to help out with the chores here before I go to my own farm. If you wanted to start working with me, Simon, we can keep track of your days of work, and I’ll pay you what I owe.”

  “Sure. Yah. Thanks. That sounds good.”

  It might be a good way to keep Simon away from those Englisher thugs, to boot.

  Jeb cleared his throat. “Okay. Well. Good night, then.”

  Leah didn’t say anything else, and she didn’t meet his eye again. Instead, she led the way down the darkened hallway, leaving the lamp in the kitchen with Simon, and Jeb followed. She opened the door to the bathroom.

  “In case you need it,” she said.

  “Thanks.” He looked into the bathroom—also spotless.

  “The towels are in here—” She touched the closed door of a linen closet, and her steps slowed as she approached the door beyond it. He saw her visibly stiffen as she stopped at the closed door. “And this is my—our—room tonight.”

  “You’d asked for your own room,” he murmured, keeping his voice low.

  Leah opened the door and led the way inside. Jeb paused at the doorway, unsure of what she was expecting from him. They’d had an agreement—had it just changed? His heart sped up at that thought. He’d gone through this entire day believing that tonight they’d be in separate rooms. He wasn’t ready for this. It was supposed to be easier for the man, but he wasn’t young and smooth-skinned anymore. He was damaged, older, and the scars that he’d grown used to would be a shock to her.

  “Come in,” she said, her voice low but urgent. He stepped inside and Leah shut the door behind him, then licked her lips. “I don’t want people to know about ... our sleeping arrangement. And that includes my brother. Some things aren’t his business. He might know what made us decide on this marriage, but he doesn’t need to know anything else beyond that.”

  Her desire to keep their business between them was a relief, and it softened him towa
rd her just a little more. A woman with discretion was a gift—especially under these circumstances.

  Jeb nodded. “Agreed. I prefer privacy with our business, too. Have you told anyone—”

  “About our plans for intimacy?” She shook her head. “Jeb, this marriage is supposed to give us status in the community, and I hardly see how it’s anyone else’s business. I’d be embarrassed if anyone knew. Humiliated.”

  Jeb swallowed. Yah, there were a few things about their marriage that wouldn’t be easy to explain to someone on the outside.

  “So, I was hoping you would be okay with us sleeping in the same room tonight,” she said, her cheeks flooding with color. “It’s expected.”

  Jeb’s gaze swept around the room. There was a double bed in the center, covered with a hand-stitched quilt. A rag rug lay beside it, and there was a full-length mirror in one corner, an overstuffed chair in the other corner next to the window.

  “Sure,” he agreed. “I’m fine with that. I’ll just make myself comfortable in that chair.”

  “I’m not sure you’ll fit in it,” she said quietly. “I could take the chair, I suppose—”

  Not that he’d agree to. He wasn’t putting his new wife in a chair while he slept in a bed.

  “Or we could use the bed,” Jeb said quietly. “We’ll put pillows between us—like bundling. I won’t touch you. I can promise you that.”

  Leah was silent for a moment, but he saw her gaze move around the room. She was calculating space, too, he could tell. She went to the dresser and picked up a box of matches. She struck one and lit the lamp on the dresser top, flooding the room with warm, golden light.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested that,” he said. “I can sit up tonight in the chair. It’s fine.”

  He could squeeze himself into it. He spotted a wooden chest he could move to make a footrest. It wouldn’t be easy on his leg, but he could find a way.

  “No,” Leah said at last. “We can share the bed.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  She nodded. “With the pillows between us.”

  “Right.” Jeb put his overnight bag down on the bed. “Should one of us change in the bathroom, then?”