The Women of Jacob’s Mountain Boxed Set

by Hining, Deborah;

  “Why, honey, it would take a blind person to miss it!” She paused to think. “Although Lilly did, but Lilly sees nothin’ but herself. And Jimmy Lee, but then, Jimmy Lee is so crazy about yew, he wouldn’t see on purpose. But yew know, Howard, yer city boyfriend, he wasn’t blind.”

  “Oh, no! I mean, I know Howard—Graves—saw it, but I didn’t think it was that obvious to you! I mean, you never let on!”

  “Well, it wasn’t none of my business, was it? The last thing yew needed was somebody winkin’ at yew and actin’ all silly about it. I could see the pain yew both were in, yew and Howard.” She looked directly into Geneva’s eyes. “And honey, he sure loves yew, too. He hid it worse than yew did.”

  “Oh, I know he did love me, but, oh, Sally Beth! I did something so awful! He gave me this… this potion! He gave me an out, in case I got pregnant, and like a fool, I drank it! And that just killed it for him. He would have loved me, I know it! If I just hadn’t let him down like that! He so wants children, and I was a selfish fool.” She stifled more sobs, and then the smile broke through. “But it didn’t work, obviously.” She placed her hand on her belly that cradled the child. “So, now I have the baby, but not him.”

  Sally Beth leaned her elbows on the table and cocked her head. “Miracles happen all the time, yew know.”

  Geneva nodded her head. “Miracles have already happened. I’m overwhelmed by the fact that God loves me so much, despite the fact that I am so miserably flawed. I don’t deserve such mercy.”

  Sally Beth snorted and leaned back. “Why, that’s the silliest thing I ever did hear! To say God shouldn’t love us because we are flawed or broken is like sayin’ He shouldn’t love us because we have blue eyes or knock knees! Of course we’re broken! That’s part of bein’ human, and if God didn’t love anybody who wasn’t, then He wouldn’t love anybody! Git over that, Geneva Lenoir!” She sat up and patted her hair demurely. “Yew just need to accept His grace and be happy for it,” she said primly, before adding, “and expect miracles. God wants us to be happy! And I bet He wants you to be with Howard. Yew need to tell him as quick as yew can and see what God provides.”

  “I don’t know. I’m thinking it would be best if I don’t even tell him. You know, he will think he has to make an honest woman of me, and I don’t want him to marry me under those conditions. Our marriage would be a miserable farce.”

  Sally Beth looked at her directly and seriously. “Don’t be a fool, Geneva Lenoir! That would be the same as lying to him, and yew have no idea what is the best thing for him. He’s not a child, so don’t treat him like one.”

  Geneva sighed. “Yes, but I know the only right thing to do is to let him go.”

  “Mmhmm! Yer sure about that?” She cocked her head and scrutinized Geneva. “Lemme ask yew this. Did God tell yew this was the right thing to do? Or did Howard?”

  Geneva was taken aback, “Well, yes, I guess so. I’ve had this really strong feeling about it ever since I found out. I think that’s God telling me.”

  “Well, did yew ask either one of ‘em?”

  “I…”

  “Uh-huh,” she said again.

  “Okay, you’re right,” said Geneva, chastened. “He’s not a child. I should tell him.”

  “He’s comin’ to the funeral, so you jist march yerself up to him and tell him!”

  Geneva nodded, humbled by Sally Beth’s rebuke. “But please, Sally Beth! You cannot breathe a word about any of this to him, or to anybody! Promise me that!”

  The waitress arrived to take their order. Sally Beth slipped back to her side of the booth and smiled brightly. “I’ll have the early bird special with black coffee and a glass of water, please.” Then she beamed at Geneva. “I bet yew are as hungry as a horse! The Mexican omelet is real good. And I can keep secrets as good as anybody.”

  Geneva relaxed. It was good to have Sally Beth’s blessing. Never would she have dreamed that she would disbosom herself to her “silly” cousin, but now that she had, she felt safe and hopeful. She ordered the Mexican omelet, then held Sally Beth’s hand as they blessed the meal.

  They buried Holy Miracle in the old graveyard near the ancient apple orchard where the hills billowed up to the sky in brown, undulating waves. While there was only a simple graveside service, many dozens of people braved the freezing rain to say goodbye to the old holy man. It was over quickly, but people were reluctant to leave so soon, despite their discomfort. Someone lifted his voice in a hymn:

  When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound, and time shall be no more,

  And the morning breaks eternal, bright and fair,

  When the saved on earth shall gather over on the other shore,

  And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

  Others joined in until the air was saturated with music and water, and the grief was honeycombed by a deep undertow of love. The thankfulness of all the people Holy Miracle had blessed rose up like the flame of a hundred candles illuminating and glorifying even the gray and black clouds.

  Howard was there, joining in the singing, but when Geneva made her way toward him, he folded himself into the mist and the people, and although she searched for him, she could not find him. There was nothing left to do but shrink into the enveloping gloom of the rain and her own grief. At last, when the weeping day drew to a close, Geneva went home alone, tired and empty. Such loss as hers has a way of damping even the most ardent coals of the heart. She fell into bed and alternated between prayers and tears until she fell asleep.

  Thanksgiving was two days away. The morning dawned bright, the harsh winter light bleeding the color from the faces of people and revealing all the hunger of the sun-starved land. She needed to do something. Her waistline had already begun to thicken, and in a few more weeks her pregnancy would begin to be evident to anyone with a discerning eye. Today she would go to see Howard and tell him about their tiny miracle, she resolved. She had already imagined all the possible scenarios that could be precipitated by her news, and even dared to hope for a moment of luminous joy, where he would laugh and shout and wrap his arms around her and all would be well. But other thoughts crowded into her tangled brain, whispering that he could explode with fury, or most likely, he would turn dull eyes to her and, with lead in his voice, offer to give her his name. Somehow, that seemed the worst scenario, for fury would at least show feeling, and feeling might eventually mean the hope of something more.

  She dressed carefully, ate breakfast with Rachel and the children, then got into her little old Mazda and headed out toward Howard’s father’s house. She hoped he would be there, but if not, she would borrow a horse and make her way up to the cabin on the mountain, or she would wait for him to return. Today she would tell him, no matter what.

  Halfway there, she stopped for gas at a country station. An exceptionally beautiful woman wearing jeans, a leather jacket, and cowboy hat and boots was just finishing filling the tank of a shiny, new Ford pickup truck as Geneva pulled up to the pump. The woman flashed a dazzling smile at Geneva, then hopped in the truck and drove away. There was something unsettling about her in the long, dark hair, the sparkling eyes, the self-assured, fluid movements. Geneva felt a stab of jealousy for no good reason other than the fact that the woman was stunning and Geneva felt decidedly not. She sighed and replaced the handle of the pump, then got back into her car and headed uphill.

  Not long afterward, she found herself on the road above Jesse’s cabin. As she began the descent toward his driveway entrance, she was surprised to see the blue Ford truck that she had seen earlier at the gas station. It turned at the mailbox. Geneva slowed, pausing before following, until the Ford disappeared around a curve in the drive.

  Feeling guilty and full of trepidation, Geneva rolled along the driveway until she caught sight of the truck as it stopped in front of the house. Her line of sight was mostly obscured by a grove of beech trees, so she got out of the car and walked until she had a clear view of the driveway and the front of the cabin. Suddenl
y, Howard bolted out of the front door, followed closely by this father in his wheelchair. The beautiful woman opened the truck door as Howard leapt off the porch, and she ran to him, jumping into his arms. As he caught her up into a tremendous hug, spinning her around and laughing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and threw her head back. The cowboy hat blew off, and her long silken hair lifted, whirling behind her. When Howard set her down, she bounded up the steps and threw herself onto Jesse’s lap, where he drew her into his arms, nestling her close, and he kissed her on the forehead.

  It was exactly the scene she had imagined in her own hopeful heart that morning, except that the woman laughing and spinning in Howard’s arms was the wrong one. Despair scythed raggedly through her being. No wonder Howard had been uninterested in her! This woman had already insinuated herself into his family, was loved, not only by Howard, but by his father, and no doubt the rest of the family as well. Sick and wounded, she crept back to her car and backed out of the driveway.

  An hour later, she dialed Howard Graves’ telephone number. When he answered, she did not bother with small talk, but got right to the point.

  “I’m coming back to DC. My tenants have a lease until June, and I need an apartment at least until then. Can you find me one?”

  He hesitated, but his voice was strong and kind. “Yes, as a matter of fact. One of my friends lives on the floor below me, and he’s on sabbatical in Italy right now. I’m keeping an eye on his place and feeding his parakeet. He’ll be gone until July, and I’m sure he won’t mind if you come and stay. Peanuts is lonely. Jeff probably will be glad you’re there to keep him company.” He thought for a second. “He probably won’t like it if you bring the cats, though. That could be an embarrassing disaster.”

  Despite her compounded grief, Geneva laughed at the thought of her cats being driven mad by a caged parakeet. “Thanks, Howard, I really appreciate it. I’ll try to be up there soon, and I have a lot to tell you.” With that, she said goodbye and hung up the phone.

  “What’s this?” came the voice behind her. “You’re going back?” Rachel hoisted Genny higher on her hip and brushed a golden strand of hair back from her forehead. “What on earth happened?”

  Broken with misery, Geneva told her sister of her encounter on the mountain, of the beautiful woman whirling in Howard’s arms, of how she had flung herself into his father’s lap and had been received like a beloved daughter. “There’s nothing for me here, Rachel. I have to leave.”

  “Wait a minute! You don’t know for sure what that was about! And you can’t just leave! You have to at least tell him and let him make up his own mind.”

  Geneva turned wearily to her sister. “Rachel, it’s plain. He does not love me, but he is an honorable man. He’s happy with this woman, and if I tell him about the baby, it will ruin his chance of a good life. He’ll feel responsible, and he may even insist on marrying me. It’s best I just get out of here, out of his life, go someplace I can make a way for myself.”

  “Geneva, you have to tell Howard. It just isn’t right that you don’t.”

  “It won’t be right if I do. I’m not going to saddle him with the burden of this child, or me.”

  Rachel fell silent to think for a moment. “But how are you going to keep it from him? Everybody a hundred miles around will be talking about this. He can add and subtract, you know.”

  She ached as she found the words to explain. Howard would delight in the fact of this child, but then he would be bound to her through his sense of honor, and such a binding would weigh him down, cause him pain and sorrow, now when he was finding his own happiness without her. She could win him, but at what cost? No, she would give him his freedom. “I’ll go away for good. I have a home in DC, and I can get another job. Nobody here has to know at all.”

  “You can’t just leave here! What will you do, never come back? Try to hide this baby from your family? Your friends? That would be just awful, Geneva! You mean you’d just give us all up?”

  Geneva felt the tears well up, but she brushed them aside. This was the price she would have to pay to protect Howard from herself. She shook her head.

  “Okay, I know what you are feeling, and I understand. But you can’t just leave! You can’t tear yourself away from here and from everybody you love, Howard included! Geneva, it isn’t right! We love you! We need you here! This would kill Mama and Daddy!

  She continued with desperation, “Look, how about this? What if the baby wasn’t yours? Now, hush, just listen, and hear me out. We can do this. You stay here until you start to show, and then run back to DC until the baby comes. Meantime, I’ll pretend to be pregnant. I hardly ever go anywhere, and when I do, I can stuff a pillow under my dress, and I’ll go to DC when the baby is due, and we can all come back together, and everybody will think it’s mine!” I can spend the next—how many months?—August, right? That means—May? Oh, Geneva, a May baby! That would be perfect!”

  “I’ll not give up this baby, Rachel,” gasped Geneva, “even to you!”

  “Oh, no! You won’t have to! You can live here with us, and, oh, we’ll work it out later. Maybe I’ll decide I have too many children or something and let you ‘adopt’ it. But this way you can keep it here and you can be here, and Howard won’t know. Oh, please, Geneva!” Rachel burst into tears. Hannah and Phoebe ran into the room, alarmed, and threw their arms around her legs. Lenora woke up in the next room and began to cry, and Geneva rushed to her own room to be alone. Steeling herself against her family was not going to be easy, but she knew what was right, and no one would sway her from this decision.

  Seventeen

  Post holiday dead of winter was not a good time to be in the nation’s capitol. Lighted buildings and traffic noise did little to sweeten the bitter season, and although Geneva had found some solace in reconnecting with old friends and a new church, she found herself wondering if her move back had been a wise one. She prayed constantly for guidance, but none came. Even God seemed to be withholding His warmth from her in this damp, inhospitable place.

  On this January evening, sodden with icy rain, she was so lonely that she once again sorted through the letters she had received from home over the last few weeks. She did not want to read John’s or Rachel’s letters again. They were too awkward, too artificially cheerful, and too full of poorly-hidden disappointment—and of bad news. Sammy had been hit by a car and killed. Moe had developed feline leukemia. Only Sally Beth’s letter felt comfortable, although she found it difficult to pick her way though it. Her handwriting was typical of the untutored dyslexic: illegible and full of misspellings and scratch-outs. She seemed not to know the difference between b’s and d’s, or q’s, p’s, and g’s. Sometimes she would write a number in the place of a letter. But the sentiment conveyed was warm and friendly, full of the most inane details of daily life, as comforting as warm, fresh bread on an icy morning. She puzzled her way through some sentences that had stumped her earlier.

  “I’ve deen learning how to braw, and I think it would 5e fun to desiqn cloths. Mrs. Halverto3 and I are learming to seew. Mr. Hawkinns has a new sonp, it’s even detter than Lucille!”

  But the real shocker was that Lilly had up and moved to Las Vegas in search of a Sugar Daddy.

  “Mama was fit to de tieb at first, but she’s 3k now.”

  There was a knock at the door, so Geneva set the letter aside to answer it. A pale and worried Howard Graves stood in the doorway. He clung to the door frame, leaning his head against his hand.

  “Howard?”

  “My mom has been in an accident. Will you come with me? I don’t want to face this alone.”

  They were at the hospital within half an hour. She sat with him during the four hours of surgery, and although more of his friends gathered to be with him, she knew how alone he felt. His father had died five years earlier, and he was the only child of two only children. Her own vast, backwoods family seemed like an embarrassment of riches, or—she couldn’t help herself the small pretension—som
etimes just an embarrassment. She tried to share the joke with Howard, but he didn’t find it funny. “I love your family, Geneva,” he said solemnly, just as the doctor came to give him the good news that his mother would live—without a spleen and with a metal plate in her head and four screws in her leg—but she would live. Howard put his arms around Geneva and wept.

  They returned to their apartment building at two in the morning. The rain had frozen in puddles in the parking lot. “Careful,” said Howard, taking her arm. “You could break your neck,” he warned, just as she felt her feet slide underneath her. He grabbed her to steady her. She did not recoil at his touch; he was warm and reassuring, but when he kept his arm around her waist as they navigated the frozen parking lot, she began to feel uneasy. He was vulnerable now, and she did not want to give him any false hopes. She pulled away as soon as they were inside.

  “Thank you for coming with me,” he said at her door.

  “I’ll pray for her,” she replied.

  “Oh, yes. Please do. And Geneva? Please pray for me, too.” He touched her hand briefly and left.

  The weeks that followed were the happiest of her winter. Geneva stopped bothering to look for a job. Howard still kept his eye on her investment portfolio, and since her living expenses were next to nothing, she seemed to be making more money than she was spending. Now she began Lamaze classes, and she spent her days with Howard’s mother who was healing slowly. She came to understand how being around people in need appealed to Sally Beth: it was nice to be a source of comfort to someone in pain and to appreciate the subtle dignity in her suffering. The two women grew close during the bleak hours.

  Howard was proving to be a steady and helpful friend. When she finally worked up the nerve to tell him about her baby, he looked saddened, but he took her hand and kissed it before smiling and shrugging. “I guess this takes me out of the picture, then, doesn’t it?” She dropped her eyes. “But I knew that anyway. Nothing wrong with hoping, though.” He stood up briskly and suggested they go for pizza. When she hesitated, he put up his hands. “No strings. Friends can hang out together,” and so they fell into an easy camaraderie that suited Geneva just fine. But sometime later she caught him looking at her in a certain way and a tickle of unease crept across her skin, and when he sent her twenty-five roses for her birthday, she could no longer deny that he still had feelings for her. His mother, too, had become attached to her, and showed it by making subtle suggestions that the two get back together. Mindful that she had already hurt enough people with her selfishness, she tried to distance herself by asking her mother to come for a visit and serve as a buffer between herself and them.