“She had come to live with us after our grandparents died. After she got pregnant, she moved into town, went to work at the local bordello. It was years before Father knew why she’d left, years before my mother knew who had fathered her sister’s baby.”
Jake had no words to express what he was feeling. Zach expected none. He sighed, lightly tossing the harmonica in his hand. “We weren’t allowed music. Father gave you twelve lashes because I played this damn thing.”
“It was only ten. And he’s not here now. Good night, Zach … and thanks for telling me. I always wondered.”
As he galloped away, the strains from “Amazing Grace” filled the air, replenishing a tortured soul with peace.
Standing beside the bed, Jake looked down on his sleeping wife. She was lying on her back, her hands palms up resting on her pillow, the music box sitting on her stomach. He caressed the etched letters on his watch with his thumb. She cherished him. He wondered how close that came to love.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. “Did you find him?”
Jake sat down on the bed. “Yes. He wouldn’t come because I wasn’t allowed to celebrate Christmas with his family.”
She shook her head. “In many ways, I think Zach suffered almost as much as you did. Maybe Ethan did, too, although I find it difficult to feel any sympathy for him. You’re the one who should have been bitter, who should have grown into an angry man.”
Jake smiled in remembrance. “I can probably thank my mother that I didn’t. I was only five when she died, but I can still hear the softness of her voice, feel the gentle touch of her hand. I carry her with me always. Only thing that got me through sometimes.”
“That’s the kind of mother I’d like to be,” Rebecca said.
“I have no doubts that’s exactly the kind of mother you will be.”
Rebecca lifted the music box off her stomach. “I was letting him listen to it.”
“You think he can hear it?”
She shrugged. “I hope he can hear what’s going on out here, otherwise I’ve spent a great deal of time singing lullabies to myself these past few months.”
He opened his hand, revealing the watch. “I want to thank you for the watch. I never had such a fine gift before.”
Rebecca sat up, brushing his hair up off his brow. “I wanted you to know how much you mean to me. You’re my best friend, Jake. Under the circumstances, I don’t think there’s anyone else I could have married.” She slipped two fingers up the cuff of her gown and retrieved the sprig of green. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice that you didn’t get in line?” She held the mistletoe over his head. “Don’t disappoint me,” she whispered.
And he didn’t.
Chapter Eleven
PRESSING TIGHTENED FISTS into her lower back, Rebecca arched her spine trying to ease the dull ache that had begun early that morning. They were five days into the new year. According to her estimates, she had nearly three more weeks of waddling like a duck and feeling the increased discomfort she was fighting now.
Jake walked into their home holding two plates heaped with vittles, the weary lines etched on his face deepening as he caught sight of his wife.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “My back is just aching. I feel like this baby turned into a steel cannonball today and fell from my ribs to my knees.”
“You think a hot bath would help?”
A hot bath would be heaven, and if she weren’t an invalid, she’d take one. But she wasn’t going to ask Jake to prepare one for her.
“It’s too much trouble,” she said, trying to keep the longing out of her voice and succeeding, but her eyes failed her efforts.
Jake set the plates on the table and tugged on his shirt. “There’s no way I can lay in that bed with you tonight smelling the way I do, and washing up’s not going to do me any good. I’d like a bath, too.”
Once the dishes were cleared away, Jake brought out a large wooden tub and set it up behind the quilt. Then he began hauling water in and heating it up. When he had filled the tub with steaming water, he stepped out from behind the quilt and bowed, extending an arm towards the bath.
“You first.”
Laughing, Rebecca walked past him. “I won’t argue this time.”
Leaning back against the wooden tub, the warm water lapping around her body, Rebecca closed her eyes and signed. She longed to sit in the water all night, but she knew Jake would use the same water when she was finished. It was too much trouble to empty the tub and refill it. She had felt guilty the first time they had used the tub because she hadn’t realized that he would use her water, and it was cold by the time she clambered out.
Picking up the lard soap, she began rubbing it between her hands, thinking of French soaps and other things that were rarely found out here. The hard soap went slipping out of her hands, thudding and skidding across the floor, beneath the quilt and into the other side of the room. She froze. Should she climb out of the tub and try to get it herself? Should she ask Jake to get it for her?
Jake looked at the uneven ball of soap as though it were something alien, something he had never before seen. Should he step outside so she’d feel free to get out of the tub and get it herself? Should he kick it back under the quilt? Dammit! She was his wife, he’d see her body and a whole lot more before the next month rolled around. Jake got up and walked towards the quilt, bent down and picked up the soap. He weighed it in his hand as he weighed his options.
He stepped around the quilt. Her back was to him and she glanced at him over her hunched shoulders. She tentatively held out a hand, while the other ineffectually covered her upper body. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, dampened tendrils framing her face. He took a step forward and placed the soap in her outstretched hand before turning and heading out of the house.
Standing on the porch, he inhaled deeply. Handing her the soap was not what he had wanted to do. He had wanted to scrub her back, to ease that ache in her lower back. Sweet Lord, but he wanted to touch her the way a man touches his wife, the way a man touches the woman he loves. He bowed his head, wondering if she would ever want him the way he wanted her. But he realized he was being unfair. Right now, she was swollen and miserable and the last thing she probably wanted was a man touching her.
The door squeaked behind him and Rebecca stuck her head out.
“I’m finished,” she said quietly.
Turning, Jake gave her a small smile and went into the house to scrub the grime off his own body.
Sitting on the sofa with her feet drawn up under her, Rebecca listened to the muffled sounds of Jake’s movements behind the quilt. She heard the gentle lapping of the water as he set his lean frame down into the tub. Then drawing in a deep breath, she got up, and shoving the sleeves of her gown past her elbows, she moved around behind the quilt.
He was scrubbing his face, and she watched the play of muscles across his back. Then she knelt down behind him and placed a finger on his shoulder. All his actions, including breathing, ceased.
“I’ll wash your back,” she said, extending a hand forward to receive the soap.
He glanced back over his shoulder. “I can do it.”
She shook her head. “You’ve been working hard. It’s the least I can do, and I won’t strain myself doing it.” She shook her hand. “Give me the soap and lean forward.”
He did as she asked. She lathered up the soap and began washing his back, rubbing it and massaging it in the process. Had anything ever felt so nice?
“I wanted to do this for you,” he said quietly.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to.”
She continued to wash his firm back, rinsing the soap off and then re-washing until she heard his steady, slow rhythmic breathing.
“Jake?” She pressed two fingers into his back. “Jake?”
His head snapped up, his eyes trying to focus, his mind trying to remember where he was. “I’ll finish,” h
e said groggily.
Handing him the soap, she got up and without looking back went straight to bed. She lay on her side, watching the moonbeams ease in through the tiny cracks in the closed shutters. She pulled the covers up more closely about her, trying to stave off the chill of the room. She listened to Jake’s movements, tempted to roll over and watch him. She heard his wet feet hit the floor, conscious of his rapid movements as he dried off and slipped on his long Johns.
The bed dipped with his weight. She rolled over, snuggling up against him, his body bringing her warmth. There were moments when she was nestled within his embrace that she wanted more than his arms around her, craved more than the idle movements of his fingers up and down her back. His fingers stilled and she heard his deep rhythmic breathing. She closed her eyes until her breathing matched his.
The loud clamoring of iron against iron brought Rebecca and Jake out of a sound sleep and the words “Fire!” brought Jake out of bed. He threw his pants on.
“Stay put!” he shouted, pointing a finger at Rebecca. He grabbed his jacket and shoved his arms into it before he rushed out.
She slipped her feet out of the warm bed and set them on the icy floor. Her body swayed from side to side as she moved to the front door. She opened the door, fully intending to just stand there and watch, but then she saw the fire consuming the barn and Jake rushing in behind Zach to save the stock trapped inside. She released a bloodcurdling scream and tore out into the yard.
Someone stayed her progress, and she sought to control her panic by issuing orders to anyone within hearing distance. She had the men form a line and buckets of water were sent uselessly down it. She heaved the buckets alongside them, her eyes never leaving the barn as flames licked at the structure and shot upward towards the black heavens. The horses began galloping out. As far away from the structure as she was, she could still feel the heat emanating from its core, searing anyone that came too close. She saw Jake and Zach both run out, wrapping water-drenched blankets around themselves and shouting directions to each other before storming back into the inferno.
The red-hot flames surrounded the two men as they huddled together trying to determine if any animals were left trapped inside the barn. A frantic neighing was heard in the distance, and Jake ran a quick list through his mind of all the animals he and Zach had released. Then without thought, he headed towards the rear of the barn. Abruptly, he was halted and spun around.
He felt as though his skin was blistering, his eyes were watering, and he knew he and Zach couldn’t stay inside much longer.
“Where are you going?” Zach shouted over the roar of the fire.
“Reb’s horse is the only one left! He’s in the back stall!”
“I’ll get him!” Zach said. “You head back out!” “It’s my responsibility!”
Zach jerked Jake until his head snapped. “Dammit! I don’t know why you don’t think she loves you! But she does and she needs you a hell of a lot more than she needs a damn horse! You never learned growing up that you have to obey your older brother, so you’re gonna learn now! Get the hell out of here, little brother, or I’ll carry you out and the horse can stay!”
Jake stared into eyes of brown, emotions running through him that conflicted with everything he’d known growing up.
“Leave the horse!” he yelled as he grabbed onto Zach’s coat. “Let’s just get the hell out of here!”
The roof to the barn began caving in, and burning beams began falling around them. Jake ducked down, throwing his arms over his head. When he stood back up, Zach was gone.
Jake stumbled out of the burning building. Bending at the waist, bracing his arms against his knees, he inhaled deeply of the outside air, trying to force the smoky air out of his aching lungs.
When he straightened, he saw Reb coming towards him. Then she doubled over, and screamed. Jake ran towards her, catching her before she hit the ground. Another pain hit her before the first one left and she lifted fear-filled eyes up to his.
“Oh, God! The baby’s coming! He’s coming now!” she cried.
Jake scanned the area for someone he could trust.
“Frank! Make sure Zach got out!” he yelled. Then the barn, the fire, everything else was forgotten as he carried Rebecca into the house.
Gently, Jake laid Rebecca down on the bed as she doubled up, another pain hitting her. She grabbed his hand, squeezing hard.
“They’re coming so fast! Oh, God! It hurts!”
“Reb, honey, I gotta go scrub up. I’ll be right back. Just try to relax, honey.”
“But it’s too soon, Jake. After all this, I’m going to lose him.”
“No, you won’t. I promise, Reb. Everything’s going to be all right.”
He pulled his hand free and turned to go, stopping and rubbing her back as she doubled over on her side when the onslaught of pain caught her again. As soon as her breathing started slowing, he ran to the bowl of water and began to scrub his burned hands. Dammit! They thought they had three more weeks to get ready!
He pulled a sheet out of the chest and ripped it into pieces, tying one piece on each end of the bed, handing the cloths to her.
“Just pull on these when the pain comes,” he ordered. Then he lifted her gown and laid batting under her. He watched in wonder as her muscles visibly tightened and she clenched her jaw.
“Reb, honey, don’t hold it in. Scream. Scream all you want. I gotta see if his head is down. It might hurt, honey.”
“It hurts now, Jake.” And then she filled the house with a scream that escaped out into the night and startled the men who were still battling the fire.
“I can feel his head. He’s real low down. Next time, just push, honey. Bear down and push. It’s going to be all right, Reb.”
His voice was soothing and calm, his hands gently rubbing her stomach, and for a minute she almost believed him. Then an unbearably hard contraction hit her, followed rapidly by another. When she thought she could stand it no longer, it subsided. She opened her tear-filled eyes and between the valley of her raised knees, she saw Jake smiling.
“What the hell are you smiling at, Burnett?” she snarled.
He looked at her with innocence. “I can see his head. He’s got black hair.”
“Black hair?” she asked in a softened tone.
“He’s almost here, honey.”
Then the pain gripped her again, even more intense than before, and she slipped into blissful blackness. She felt as though she were swimming through a dark tunnel, and at the end a tiny wailing sound was calling her. Painstakingly, she opened her eyes. Jake was hovering over her, cradling a tiny bundle in his strong, protective arms.
“We have a son, Reb,” he said in a quiet voice as he laid the child on her chest.
Her fingers lightly brushed the dark hair as she studied the crinkled face. How odd, she thought, that we start life so wrinkled and end it the same way.
In wonder she said, “He looks just like—” She stopped herself from saying Brett, for the boy did look just like his father. “Just perfect,” she amended.
“I’ll clean him up as soon as I’ve taken care of you,” Jake said. Her body expelled the afterbirth. He washed her, padded her, and changed the bedding without moving her from the bed. The entire time, she admired her perfect son, touched the five tiny fingers on each of his hands, his ten curled-up toes, the faint brows over his eyes, the hair that already promised to be thick and full. Jake helped her slip into a clean, soft gown, and then he took the baby to clean him up. Rebecca closed her eyes, Jake’s words echoing through her mind, “We have a son.”
He brought the clean, sleeping infant back to her. “He’s more presentable now, but he fell asleep. Guess it was hard work for him, too. Do you want to hold him?”
She reached out her arms. “Just for a minute.”
He gave the sleeping child to his mother and Rebecca’s eyes fell on Jake’s hands.
“Oh! Your hands!”
“Bad night to have a fire.�
�
“Bring me the salve and dressing.”
“I’ll be all right.”
“Do it, Jake Burnett!”
It hurt like hell to carry the jar of salve and the dressing to her. She sat up and laid the baby down on the bed, gently taking Jake’s hand in her own.
“How in the world did you manage to deliver a baby?” she wailed.
“Actually, they didn’t start hurting until I stopped.”
She applied the salve and lightly wrapped his hands, wincing as she did so, knowing he was doing the same. She wondered how the hell he could not help feeling pain while he was delivering the baby. And how many times had she squeezed his hand?
When she was done, he laid the baby in his cradle and tucked Rebecca into bed before returning outside to herald the good news and assess the damages done by the fire.
Rebecca was surprised she couldn’t sleep. After all she’d been through, she thought she’d fall into a deep slumber and never wake up. From time to time, her eyes caressed the sleeping infant, finding it difficult to believe the little mound that had been her belly was that beautiful child who was now part of her world. Already, she could not remember what it was like not to have him in her life. She heard the door open and waited for Jake to come to her. When he didn’t, she eased herself out of the bed. He was sitting on the couch, head back, eyes closed.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
His eyes snapped open. “You should be in bed.”
“So should you.”
“I thought you’d be more comfortable if I slept here,” he said.
“Well, you thought wrong. Come to bed.” “In a while.”
The woefulness in his voice caused her to sit down. “What happened?”
Jake sighed. How could he tell her? How could he explain not only what had happened but how he was feeling about it? He released a ragged sigh, sorrow-filled eyes turned her way. “Zach didn’t make it out.”
Lorraine Heath Page 14
