Jeb's Wife

by Patricia Johns

  Jeb rolled over, putting his back to the door. The springs squeaked under the weight of his body, and he wished he could cry. It would let all these jagged feelings out of him, but it wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t make her tears any less real.

  He loved her ... and if he’d just been able to keep those feelings under control ... He might still have fallen in love with her, but maybe he could have hidden it. It was his hope for more that always seemed to burn him. Look at him! He was a man with scars so terrible that they made kinner cry. Who was he to hope for the kind of love that Jacob and Rachel had, or Isaac and Rebecca?

  Eventually he fell asleep, still in his work clothes, sleep stealing over him like a broken promise that it was just a moment to rest his eyes. He awoke the next morning before dawn, startling himself awake in the silence. His throat ached, and he felt like his chest was filled with water. But it was morning and there were chores to do.

  Simon arrived fifteen minutes early as requested, and while Jeb mucked out the first of the calf stalls, he explained the situation as best he could.

  “Your sister is going to take that teaching position again,” Jeb said.

  “Yah?” Simon sounded surprised. “But you’re married now.”

  “Well, they need her help, and she wants to do it,” Jeb said.

  Simon pushed back his hat and scrubbed a hand over his forehead. “When is she going?”

  “Today. She’ll need a ride to the station. I was hoping you could take her.”

  Simon leaned on his shovel and squinted at Jeb in the light of the kerosene lamp. “Today? And you’re not driving her yourself? What happened? Tell me the truth.”

  “She wants to teach,” Jeb said. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

  The rest wasn’t Simon’s business. It wasn’t anyone’s business, and if he’d learned anything, it was that breathing a single word to someone else was as bad as announcing his secrets in the middle of town.

  “So, when am I supposed to drive her?”

  “After breakfast,” Jeb replied.

  “And that’s it?” Simon demanded. “I drop her off and we both pretend this is normal?”

  Jeb shook his head. “It isn’t normal. Nothing about our marriage is normal. You know that well enough. But she wants to go, and I’m a private man. So I’m asking you to drive her for me.”

  Simon stared at him, then shrugged. “Fine.”

  And Jeb turned back to his work. He didn’t trust himself to say anything more. Likely Simon already suspected the truth—that he and his sister had had a falling out and she was running as far away as she could. And that’s what the community would believe, too.

  When they headed back to the house for breakfast, Jeb’s heart was in his throat. He wanted to ask her to stay, but for what? He couldn’t give her what she needed—a place in her community. So asking her to stay would be selfish, meant to ease his own pain, not hers.

  Leah had fixed a proper breakfast of eggs, fried potatoes, oatmeal, and bacon. The cooking dishes were already washed when Jeb and Simon came tramping in. Leah’s suitcase was packed and sitting beside the door, and Jeb looked over the laden table toward his wife. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed. She’d been crying recently. He wanted to hold her, but something in her stance told him the physical gesture wouldn’t be welcome.

  The food was a peace offering of sorts—he recognized that. It was more food than they needed for the meal, especially considering that his stomach was like a rock and he wasn’t going to be able to eat much.

  “Eat up,” Leah said, forcing a smile. “Before it gets cold.”

  Simon glanced between them. “So you’re really going?”

  “It’s a good-paying job,” Leah said. “And there will be no kinner coming in our marriage, so I might as well help earn.”

  “That’s what this is about?” Simon squinted at his sister. “Your ability to have children? Jeb knew about that before he married you!”

  “This isn’t about that,” Jeb growled. “Look, we just think it’s best to have a bit of space for a while.”

  Now he was the one saying too much. But it wasn’t like Simon was going to be placated with their official story either.

  “And we want people to just think that I’m going to earn some money,” Leah said quietly.

  “Oh.” Simon swallowed. “Are you okay, Leah?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “We’ll talk on the drive, okay?”

  They sat down at the table, and Leah turned those red-rimmed eyes toward him, waiting for him to say the blessing. He swallowed hard and bowed his head.

  “Lord, thank you for this food we are about to eat, and for the hands that have prepared it.”

  Thank you for her ...

  They didn’t eat much of the food, and Leah started to gather up the plates when Jeb reached out and put a hand on her wrist.

  “I’ll do that,” he said quietly. “You’ve done enough already.”

  Leah met his gaze and tears misted her eyes. “I don’t want to leave a messy kitchen. I do have my pride.”

  “I’ll go get the buggy hitched,” Simon said, standing up. He glanced between them again, then headed for the door. He seemed to sense that they could use some privacy. When the door had shut, Leah’s shoulders relaxed a little more.

  “Do you want to stay?” he asked softly.

  “I don’t know what I want,” she said, her voice trembling. “And I think I’ll only figure that out when I can get back to where I have some balance again.”

  “Yah.” He nodded. “But a year’s a long time.”

  “It’s not so bad,” she said, but he saw the lie in her eyes. “Many engaged couples wait as long as that. I’ll be back before you know it, and you’ll be annoyed when I touch your things again.”

  “This is your home, Leah,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “Remember that.”

  Leah didn’t answer him, and she rose to her feet.

  Life had changed him, and while the innocent often thought that God’s healing brought a person back again, the truth was that God’s healing brought a person through. And maybe Jeb wasn’t through yet. He could admit to that. But he also knew that his journey wasn’t going to drop him back where he’d started. That just wasn’t how life worked. Even if a beautiful woman desperately longed for it to be so.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Jeb said quietly. “I wish I had words to express ... and I know I’m sending you off without anything proper from me, and . . .”

  “This is the address where I’ll be,” she said, pulling a slip of paper from her apron. “You can write me.”

  “Yah.” He nodded and looked down at the slip of paper. Rimstone . . . where it all had started.

  “Jeb, I’m sorry,” she said. “I won’t be the woman you long for either. And sometimes that’s how marriage works. You don’t get the person who fulfills all your deepest needs and desires. I haven’t done that for you. And that’s okay—”

  “You do fill my desires, Leah,” he breathed.

  “But your needs, Jeb. Those are more important, don’t you think?”

  Outside, the rattle of buggy wheels drew her eyes, and he saw her steel herself, her spine straightening.

  “They can’t know,” she said, turning to Jeb again. “Okay? We have to make them all believe that we are perfectly happy with this and all is well. That’s the only way we can ride this out.”

  “I agree,” he said.

  Leah crossed the kitchen and stooped to pick up her bag.

  “Leah—” Her name caught in his throat, and she turned back. “Can I carry that for you?”

  A tear escaped her lashes and she shook her head. “I’m okay.”

  Then she opened the door and disappeared outside. He followed her and watched as Simon tossed her suitcase into the back of the buggy, then handed his sister up into the seat. She leaned over and looked back, her dark gaze meeting his once, and then Simon hopped up, flicked the reins, and
they jolted forward.

  It took everything inside him to stay in that doorway and watch his wife drive away.

  But this was better for her, and he couldn’t be the man who would chain her to a life with him just to fill his own heart. He loved her too much for that. It wasn’t the kind of man he was.

  He stood there until the buggy turned onto the main road and was out of sight, and then he leaned his head against the doorframe, and all those tears he’d been holding back for years came flooding out in racking sobs. His shoulders shook with the force of them. He’d found out what it was like to be loved, but it hadn’t changed the outcome one bit.

  He was going back to being alone. The solitude. The lonesome nights ... He’d said he wanted it—and maybe he would again, but right now it felt like the cruelest irony. He’d said he wanted solitude and he would have just that. Be careful what you pray for, people said, because you just might get it.

  Chapter Twenty

  Leah thanked the Rimstone cab driver and handed over her fare. It felt good to be out in fresh air again. Her stomach was queasy from the drive in the musty back seat of that car. How the Englishers spend so much time in those vehicles, she had no idea. They couldn’t be good for a person—the smell, the motion, the way her body physically recoiled from the experience. It was worse than the bus.

  She sucked in a few breaths of fresh, summer air, and she felt her nerves start to relax. Her suitcase was in the trunk, and the driver pulled it out for her and handed it over with a nod. She accepted her bag and returned his nod, then looked away. The Englishers could be overly friendly if allowed, and she had no interest in making small talk.

  The driver got back into his car, and Leah looked around at the neat property. The apples were growing well on the low, gnarled trees, and she could see the small, green pears forming on some trees close by the whitewashed fence. She’d only been gone a few weeks, but it felt like longer. So much had happened . . . changed. She wasn’t the same schoolteacher who had left Rimstone for the summer.

  It was strange. She remembered her mother telling her that a man couldn’t fill all the corners of her heart, but she’d never guessed just how true that was. The Bible said that man didn’t live on bread alone, and perhaps they could add that women couldn’t live by marriage alone either. The human heart needed more. And maybe God could make up that difference for her, too, because she didn’t know where else to turn.

  All the same, she missed Jeb. Her heart ached with the loss of him, and she’d seen him that very morning. So, while a woman couldn’t live by marriage alone, it certainly did tug at parts of her heart she’d never known existed. That made it harder still. They said that a husband gave a woman position, children, and a home to live in by the sweat of his brow. They said a good husband was like a well-built barn—he stood up to storms and sheltered his wife. All those images of husbands and wives were practical, and she could appreciate that, especially after Matthew’s desertion. But she hadn’t been prepared for the depth of feeling she could develop for a man in such a short space of time.

  It’s like being partners in a battle—having a warrior defending your back. That was how Rosmanda had described it. And in the most heartbreaking way she had likely never anticipated, she’d been right. Because Leah would have Jeb’s back until death parted them. She’d protect him yet, even if they needed to tamp down their emotions to do it. But she wouldn’t have a lover for life, as Rosmanda had predicted. That part couldn’t be for them.

  How had this happened? If she loved him half as much, she could have lived her own life and appreciated the home he provided her. But love him like this? It was misery.

  “You’re here!” Cherish Wittmer called, coming out the side door of her little house with a broad smile on her face. “We weren’t sure if we’d see you again, my dear. You must have gotten the letter from the school board, then?”

  “Yah—and how could I not come?” Leah said, forcing a smile. “I’m glad to be back.”

  The taxi reversed, and Leah hoisted her suitcase in one hand.

  Cherish paused, eyed her for a moment. “Are you? You’ve been crying.”

  “Allergies.” Leah’s smile slipped.

  “It isn’t Christianly to lie,” Cherish whispered. “But then, it isn’t Christianly to pry either, is it?”

  Cherish had always had a strange, balanced wisdom about her, and Leah’s eyes welled with tears despite her best effort to keep herself stoic.

  “Come on inside,” Cherish said, linking her arm through Leah’s. “I have fresh cinnamon buns on the counter and I’m making a chicken tonight with the gravy you like so much.”

  “Thank you, Cherish,” Leah said, and they went up the steps together and into the house.

  Leah glanced around. The mudroom and kitchen hadn’t changed a bit. The same containers lined the counters, the little step stool Cherish used to reach her upper cupboards was still in an awkward location—right where Cherish had left it the last time she used it.

  “Is it Matthew?” Cherish asked.

  “No . . .” Leah realized she hadn’t been thinking about Matthew lately. It had been a while now since she’d shed a tear over him. “His wife is pregnant, so he’ll be a daet soon. They seem very happy.”

  “I’m sorry, dear,” Cherish said softly.

  “Don’t be,” Leah replied. “It isn’t Matthew.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Cherish replied. “Then who has broken your heart? Oh . . . the pregnancy . . .” Cherish’s cheeks pinked. “I know how hard that must be, to see another woman—”

  “It’s another man!” The words burst out of her before she could think better of them. But she couldn’t go through this—the guesswork, touching on every painful spot she had.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Cherish asked.

  “No,” Leah said. “I’m glad to be back where I can be respected. That’s all.”

  “He didn’t respect you?” Cherish frowned.

  Leah sighed. Cherish was like a mother—loving, tender, sweet, and as persistent as a woodpecker when it came to personal issues.

  “Shall we pretend there is no problem?” Cherish asked, putting a weathered hand on Leah’s arm. “I can do that. I think so at least. I would try very hard.”

  “Cherish, I did something crazy . . .” Leah sucked in a breath. “And you’ll have to keep my secret, because I want to teach this year. I have to teach this year. It’s the only way I’m going to keep myself level.”

  “What did you do?” Cherish whispered.

  “I got married.”

  A smile spread over Cherish’s face, then it faltered. “Why are you here, then?”

  Why indeed? Leah rubbed her hands over her face. “Because it wasn’t for love, it was for money. And I know that’s terrible. I do! But my brother was in trouble and I didn’t have the money to help him, and this man needed to have a wife to inherit a farm, and—” Leah couldn’t look Cherish in the eye as she confessed all this. “It’s a marriage of convenience. That’s all.”

  Cherish was silent, and she nodded slowly. “All the same ... why are you here?”

  “Because we need different things,” Leah said. “He keeps to himself. He wants nothing to do with our community—”

  “He’s not Amish?” Cherish choked out.

  “He is, he is . . .” Leah laughed softly. “He’s just ... a hermit. He was badly burned in a fire and he’s been through a lot, and ... I’m not saying it was all a mistake because we both got what we needed from this marriage already, but I need to work this year so I can get my emotional balance again. He’s my husband, but we both want very different things.”

  “A little late to be considering that,” Cherish murmured.

  “I know.”

  “And he’s fine with this?” Cherish asked. “You working here and not taking care of him?”

  “Yah. He’s fine. Please don’t tell anyone, Cherish. I just need to teach, have some space. Marriage is long, they s
ay. I have time to sort it out.”

  “So, you’re running away from him . . .” Cherish said.

  “No.”

  Cherish raised her eyebrows.

  “I’m not,” Leah insisted. “It isn’t like that. Marriage is long, and sometimes two people need time to find their balance. That’s all this is. But I’d rather do that without the judgment of all of Rimstone wondering why I’m not with my husband.”

  And again, here she was saying too much—unburdening herself when she should be stoically holding it all inside. She didn’t suffer well, it would seem.

  “Please, Cherish,” Leah said, reaching out to take the older woman’s hand. “Please don’t tell them . . .”

  “I won’t say anything to anyone,” Cherish said. “Let God be my witness to that.”

  Leah nodded. “Thank you.”

  Could she trust that? Only time would tell. She’d begged Lynita not to tell anyone what she knew, too, and look how that had gone. But she couldn’t go through life isolated—at some point a woman had to trust someone....

  “Eat.” Cherish dished up a cinnamon bun onto a plate and pushed it toward her with an encouraging smile. “Our teacher needs some meat on her bones.”

  Leah smiled through her tears. “I’ve missed you, Cherish.”

  “Me too.” The older woman stood up and went to the gas-powered fridge for some milk. “And while they tell you that marriage is long, dear, this is one thing they don’t tell you because they expect you to figure it out the natural way. But I sense that you aren’t going to do that any time soon . . .”

  “What’s that?” Leah asked tiredly.

  “There is more than one way to communicate with your husband,” Cherish said. “And while a relationship takes time, it also takes proximity. You’ll learn things about him while in his arms that you’d never discover anywhere else. Marriage can also be incredibly sweet if you spend your marriage in each other’s arms instead of miles apart.”

  Leah’s gaze moved toward the window. So far, in her experience, marriage was heartbreaking, lonely, and confusing. Pillow talk couldn’t be the answer to everything that went wrong between two people, could it?