Jeb's Wife

by Patricia Johns

  “You should talk to him,” Lynita said. “When he gets stubborn like this, he won’t listen to me.”

  “I don’t have the influence you think I do,” Leah said woodenly. “He’s the man. He’ll decide.”

  “You’re the wife,” Lynita countered. “You have influence. Trust me. Besides, he cares what you think.”

  Did he? Leah wasn’t so convinced. Besides, did she really want her husband to give away her brother’s chance at paying off those Englishers and her own chance at a comfortable life?

  “Menno is wrong in this,” Leah said, her voice low.

  “Partly,” Lynita said. “But I understand his anger, too. Just think it over yourself, okay? That’s all I’m asking. I’m glad Jeb has you. It’s not just him now. Before he married you, he didn’t care what the community thought of him at all.”

  “He still doesn’t,” Leah said.

  “He’s changing,” Lynita said. “And for the better. There was a time he swore he’d never marry again, period.”

  “Why?” Leah asked.

  “Why?” Lynita’s eyebrows went up. “You don’t know?”

  “Well, I know about Katie, but—”

  “She broke his heart,” Lynita said softly. “She might have loved another man, but he loved her. I don’t know what happened behind closed doors, but she managed to crush him.”

  Across the room, Jeb sat in his seat at the head of the table. She couldn’t see his scars from this angle, and he looked tired.

  “Was it just that she didn’t love him back?” Leah asked.

  “Whatever it was, it left him scared of marriage,” Lynita replied. “And there were a few old maids who would have married him still, after that accident. But he wasn’t interested anymore—in marriage, or the community either. He just—gave up. Until you, of course. So I know you’re special.”

  Less special than convenient, but she couldn’t say that out loud. It did explain why he was equally unwilling to open himself up to more in their marriage.

  “I’m going to pray that Menno backs down,” Leah said after a moment of silence.

  “You pray for miracles,” Lynita said. “I’m just trying to deal with facts. Sometimes it’s wiser to pray for those miracles but be prepared for things as they are. God doesn’t always knock down the city’s walls, you know? Not every city is a Jericho.”

  “You’re probably right,” Leah said. It seemed easier to just agree with Lynita.

  Lynita looked mollified at that response, and she reached for a jar of sour cherries.

  “I hope you don’t mind me bringing along a few preserves,” Lynita said. “But I know you were away all year teaching, and I know the kitchen you married.” Lynita laughed at her own little joke.

  “That’s appreciated,” Leah said, laughing as well. “I’m going to be busy this summer and fall just stocking the pantry. I’ve got to focus on that garden, too. I’m tempted to keep both gardens going—here and at the cottage with Simon. It’ll give me more to harvest.”

  “I’ll lend a hand, if you need it—” Lynita twisted the lid, then used a butter knife to pry the lid top off the canning jar. “And we have these cherry trees that give us more cherries than I can even jar. If you want to help me harvest them, I’ll send you home with buckets of cherries.” As it came loose, the juice inside came out in a slosh. “Oh!”

  The dark red juice soaked into the sleeve of Lynita’s dress, some spots spattering across her white apron.

  “That’ll stain,” Leah said with a wince. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, I did it to myself,” Lynita said. “But I’d better try to clean it up in the bathroom.”

  “You know where it is?” Leah asked. “There is some stain remover under the sink.”

  Lynita smiled and headed for the stairs, then said over her shoulder, “And you don’t mind lending me a fresh apron, do you? I’ll have to soak this one before the stain sets in.”

  Lynita didn’t wait for a reply and headed up the staircase. Leah’s stomach dropped. She knew exactly where Lynita would be looking for a fresh apron, and she wouldn’t find one there.

  Leah wiped her hands on a cloth and hurried up the staircase after her guest, but when she got to the top of the stairs, she saw Jeb’s bedroom door open, and Lynita was nowhere to be seen.

  Please, God! she silently prayed, and when she got to Jeb’s door, she saw his sister standing in front of the dresser with a frown.

  “I’ll get it for you,” Leah said, forcing a smile. “Go on into the bathroom—”

  “Where are your clothes?” Lynita asked, looking around. “This bedroom hasn’t changed since—” Her expression froze.

  “Uh—” Leah wasn’t sure she could answer that question.

  “A woman doesn’t move in without a trace,” Lynita said quietly, and she turned her gaze onto Leah with trepidation. “Did you not move in?”

  “Yes, I moved in,” Leah said. “Of course!”

  “Then where are your things?” Lynita repeated. “Is my brother mistreating you?”

  “Your brother is fine,” Leah said firmly.

  Lynita left Jeb’s room, and she followed Leah into the bathroom. Leah breathed a sigh of relief. This was better—get Lynita cleaned up and safely downstairs, and hopefully she wouldn’t ask any more questions about where Leah kept her things. Maybe she’d need to hang a dress in Jeb’s room, just for times like these.

  Leah had put some laundry soap under the bathroom sink for her own spot removing, and she bent down, opening the cupboard, but then she heard the squeak of the doorknob, and her heart skipped a beat.

  Lynita pulled open the door that led between Leah’s bedroom and the bathroom, and she stood there with a wooden expression on her face.

  “Lynita . . .” Leah breathed, slowly rising to her feet once more.

  “I see your things now,” Lynita said quietly.

  “Yah, I just keep them—” But Leah didn’t have the breath to finish her lie. Lynita turned toward her, her eyes misting with tears. They stood there, neither speaking for a couple of beats.

  “You don’t share a room?” Lynita whispered at last.

  How could she explain? Leah felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. His own family—they’d hate her now. They’d think she was no better than the Katie who had crushed Jeb before her.

  “I—” Leah sucked in a breath. “I hardly know him. He’s almost a stranger, and—”

  “But you married him,” Lynita said. “You had to expect—”

  “I know!” Leah cut her off. “It’s just ... the wedding was really quick. There was no courting time—at all! We don’t really know each other, even. This was a mutual agreement. I’m not fighting with him, and he’s not upset with me. You can ask him yourself.”

  “He wouldn’t tell me if he were,” Lynita breathed. “He’s a man who likes his privacy. But I have to admit, I’m worried.”

  “Like you said before, you can’t know what’s going on behind closed doors, and you shouldn’t even know this,” Leah said.

  “I’m sorry.” But she didn’t sound terribly sorry. She sounded like she was thinking this through.

  “Lynita, I have to ask you to keep this a secret,” Leah pleaded. “This is private business between a husband and a wife, and no one should know about it. If you told people—”

  “Do you take me for a gossip?” she asked. “I’m not that, I can promise you. Of course I’ll keep this to myself.”

  Could Leah trust her? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t have much choice at this point.

  “Leah, can I give you some advice?” Lynita asked.

  “Yah.” Leah swallowed hard.

  “I know what it’s like to be a new wife. I was nineteen when I married Isaiah, and I was terrified. I hardly knew him, and I wanted to be married, but ... There is a whole lot more to marriage than I ever realized.”

  “I’m not a young thing anymore,” Leah said. “I’m thirty, not nineteen.”

  “No,
but you’ve never been married before either,” Lynita countered. “And it can be overwhelming.”

  “I don’t need advice about ... that,” Leah said curtly. “I have a friend who’s told me plenty.”

  “I’m not giving advice about that,” Lynita said, her cheeks flushing momentarily. “My advice is this—get to know him. He’s older than you, he’s gone through a lot, and those scars must be intimidating at best. I get it. But if you take some time and get to know your husband, I’m sure things will take care of themselves between you.”

  “I’m sure it will,” Leah said quickly. “I just need some time.”

  “Yah, it will take time,” Lynita replied. “A lifetime, actually. But that’s what makes for a sweet and happy marriage—truly understanding how each other think and work. Just ... get to know him a little more.”

  Leah nodded. It was better advice than Rosmanda’s right now. But then, Lynita knew a little more than Rosmanda did at the moment, too. What did Lynita think of her now?

  Leah moved toward the bathroom door. “I’ll get back to the food. Feel free to grab an apron—they’re in my top drawer.”

  Lynita nodded. “Thank you.”

  As Leah pulled the bathroom door shut behind her, she rubbed a hand over her face. If word got out, their reputation wouldn’t recover, and her continued childlessness would only keep them at the top of the gossip pool.

  Leah came down the stairs, and Jeb looked up.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Fine.” Leah forced a smile. “Lynita spilled something on herself. It’s all sorted out.”

  She went to the kitchen sink and washed her hands, then turned back to the meal preparation.

  There was more to marriage than the making of babies and birthing them. But this marriage was based on some very real needs on both sides. Her brother needed that money, Jeb needed this land, and she needed to fit into the community as a respectable married woman. But no one else would understand how they found their balance behind these closed doors, and the thought of her private life being bandied about by her community stung.

  She glanced toward the staircase again.

  It was no longer Menno’s gossip that worried her most, it was Lynita’s.

  * * *

  Dinner was delicious—it always was when women got into the kitchen and Jeb didn’t have to fend for himself. Leah seemed somewhat tense, but Jeb wasn’t sure he blamed her after all the discussion of Menno and the farm. Lynita let it drop after that, but it still hung in the air. After a meal, some tea, and some pie, Isaiah suggested it was time they leave.

  “I’ll help with the dishes first,” Lynita said.

  “No, I’ll help my wife,” Jeb said with a smile. “You two go on home. I’m glad you came, though.”

  As nice as it was that his sister took it upon herself to maintain a relationship with him, he’d had enough chitchat. Lynita’s reason for coming here wasn’t just out of familial duty, and he needed some quiet so he could think . . . maybe even talk it through with Leah. She was the one who had a stake in this, after all. But give up this farm? That was asking a lot of him.

  So Jeb shook Isaiah’s hand at the door, then bent down and gave his sister a one-armed hug.

  “Thanks for coming by,” he said.

  “You’ll think it over?” his sister asked him seriously. She didn’t have to clarify what she was talking about.

  “I’m not giving up this farm,” Jeb said. “I’m sorry about that, Lynita. But Menno is wrong.”

  “You could share it,” she said softly. “Wrong or not, he’s married to the bishop’s daughter.”

  “You think Menno wants to share?” Jeb shook his head. “Thanks for coming by, Lynita. But I don’t need you to be my mamm, okay? I’m a grown man, and I have a feeling my wife has a few opinions on the matter, too.”

  In fact, he was more than certain she’d have an opinion. This farm had factored into her decision to marry him.

  Lynita sighed but didn’t say anything else. Jeb went with Isaiah to help him hitch up, and when Isaiah and Lynita’s buggy was crunching over the gravel drive toward the main road, he headed back inside.

  Leah had the water running into the sink, and she looked up as he came in.

  “She drops by,” Jeb said. “It’s her way.”

  “Yah, I noticed. I don’t mind, though.”

  “If you do, I could ask her not to,” Jeb said. “She’s been doing that ever since Katie’s death. It was good then, because otherwise I probably wouldn’t have made the effort.”

  “I don’t mind,” she repeated. “It’s nice to have family.”

  Jeb picked up some dishes from the table and carried them over to the counter. Leah turned off the water and started washing. Was she upset? He couldn’t tell.

  “About Menno,” he said. “Legally, he doesn’t have any right to this land. My uncle’s will was clear. If I married within the time frame, then the land was mine. And he left me that letter, explaining it all.”

  “Why didn’t you tell your sister about it?” she asked.

  “I like to keep my business to myself,” he said. “I’d hate to have Lynita tell people I have the letter and give my cousin time to spin an explanation for that, too.”

  Leah nodded. “But Menno has connections.”

  “Those connections don’t change Pennsylvania law,” he countered.

  “They might sway the Amish community’s opinion about you,” she said. “And that’s the one that affects us.”

  “The community already has an opinion about me,” he said. “They’ve whispered about me for fifteen years. What should it matter if they have more to whisper about?”

  She rinsed a plate, and he reached for it and grabbed a dish towel. He might as well help her out. When it was just him and Peter, they’d often do the dishes together. It went faster with two.

  “It matters because your reputation is now mine,” she said.

  “Wait—” He put the dried plate on the counter. “Are you saying you want me to give up this farm? Give up the money?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Not altogether. But your sister has a point about sharing the land.”

  “Half a farm won’t be enough to keep us fed, Leah,” he replied. “This isn’t a big farm. It’s on the small side, and if we chop it in half—”

  “Maybe you could work it with Menno,” she said.

  “He doesn’t want to work with me!” Jeb laughed bitterly. “It’s a very nice thought, but he has a carpentry business he works with his brother-in-law. He’s never liked farming, and he’s never liked me. He won’t want to farm with me. I can guarantee that. He’ll want to sell it.”

  “Could you buy him out?” she asked.

  “So now I’ve gone from owning a farm free and clear to a hefty mortgage?” he asked with a shake of his head. “All for what—to hand some cash to my cousin to make him happy? What if I don’t care about his feelings right now?”

  Leah sucked in a breath. “As long as my brother’s debt is paid, that’s what I care about.”

  “And that happens tomorrow,” he said.

  “Really?” Her gaze whipped over to meet his.

  “Yah. I’m taking Simon with me. We’ll go to the lawyer’s office and the bank, and then I’m going with Simon to pay off that Englisher.”

  “You’ll go with him?” Tears misted her eyes.

  “He’ll need a witness that he paid it. And I’m not just handing over that kind of money to a gambler and hoping for the best,” he retorted.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “It will be all right, Leah,” he said, softening his tone. “It’s almost done. Don’t worry about Menno. It’s just gossip.”

  Leah was silent for a moment, then she winced. “It might be a little more than that. Your sister went upstairs.”

  He eyed her silently.

  “And into your bedroom,” she added.

  His stomach sank. He knew Lynita and her curiosity. She wa
s also deeply protective of him, and if she suspected he was being taken advantage of ... “And eventually into yours, I presume?” he asked quietly.

  “Yah.” She sighed. “She knows.”

  “Blast!” he muttered under his breath, and he rubbed at his scarred shoulder with the heel of his good hand. “What did you tell her?”

  “I said that I hardly know you and that ... it’s taking time to get comfortable.” Her cheeks grew pink.

  “And you hate lying?” he asked uncertainly.

  “Yah, I hate lying, but I also hate having someone know about this!” she said, turning from the sink. She grabbed another towel and dried off her hands. “You think people will talk about Menno’s gossip? Wait until they hear your sister’s!”

  “She won’t say anything,” Jeb said.

  “Are you sure about that? You didn’t trust her not to tell anyone about the letter!” she shot back.

  Leah had a point there, but his sister cared more about the family’s reputation than he did. She had good reason to keep her mouth shut. Leah’s cheeks glowed pink, and she turned back to the sink more quickly than necessary.

  “You’re embarrassed,” he concluded.

  “Aren’t you?” she asked, not turning. There was the rattle of cutlery on the bottom of the sink. “Having people know we sleep in separate bedrooms—”

  “But they won’t know,” he said.

  “It’s still embarrassing.”

  Their life, this marriage they’d agreed upon, was embarrassing for her. He understood. The men wouldn’t let that little fact rest either, if they knew about it. But he wasn’t embarrassed by her.

  “What do you want to do?” he asked. “Do you want to sleep in the same room, then?”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t.”

  “Okay . . .” He picked up another plate to dry. “Leah, you’ll have to trust Lynita. She’s family, and she cares. I can promise you that.”

  “Okay.” She rinsed another plate and put it in the dish rack.

  But Lynita knew . . . and he didn’t exactly like the fact that she’d know something intimate about his marriage like that. Leah had been the one to care what people thought, but it turned out that he did, too, in this situation.