Jacob's Return (19 page)

“Breakfast this morning, even.” Simon’s tone was sarcastic and Rachel had to swallow an urge to giggle.

“Where?” Jacob asked.

Simon sighed again. “We ate the noon meal with Sarah Yoder, up Applebutter Hill. Her Abram is sick; I went to visit him. After we milked the cows here, we ate supper with Joel Schrock and Gerta. Oh. Aaron has a lamb.”

“Pokey!” Aaron scrambled down from Simon’s arms and ran to Rachel, then he stopped to look at Emma and smiled. “Emma not sick.” He took Rachel’s hand and tugged. “Come see Pokey, Momly.”

They fetched and brought the lamb to show Jacob.

Black with a white face, Pokey had a tender caretaker in Aaron, who cherished him almost as much as he cherished the uncle who purchased him.

Jacob would have none of the emotion. “Where did Aaron sleep last night?”

“Where did you sleep last night?” Simon countered.

Jacob and Simon stepped toward each other.

Her father practically growled, which stopped them in their tracks, and surprised the daylights out of her.

Simon sighed. “He slept in my bed. We only went to the outhouse four times. Six if you count before bed and when we got up this morning.”

Rachel could not help laugh at what Aaron had put Simon through. “He never wakes up during the night.”

“In a strange bed, without Emma nearby would make the difference,” Jacob said. “Thank you for taking care of Aaron, Simon. I will pay you for the lamb.”

Simon scowled as only he could do. “The lamb is a gift. No repayment is necessary. The girl is better?”

“The girl is Emma!” her father shouted, the rare fit of anger unusual for him.

“And Emma needs a bit of breakfast and to go back to sleep,” Rachel said, to bring a measure of calm to the conversation. “There is still her rash to watch. And we need to keep Aaron away from her. I worry it is catching, and last night was frightening. I do not want Aaron sick as well.”

Jacob looked at Simon as if he were seeing him for the first time. “We will keep Aaron with us … while we check and sort the tobacco leaves?”

Simon nodded. “Tobacco’s ready.”

This first sign of peace between the brothers was tenuous at best, but a beginning. Rachel sighed with relief. Could Jacob and Simon toil peacefully side by side? Could they share the same house, love the same children?

Rachel examined the periwinkle sky.
Help them. Help us all
.

Down the lane came Ruben’s buggy. “Hello!” he called, Esther sitting beside him.

When they stopped, Ruben helped Es down and held her arm as she lumbered toward them. Lord she’d gotten big with that child the past couple of weeks. “Heard the news about the
Chalkboard
,” Ruben said.

Jacob and Simon looked as if they questioned the statement as much as she did, but she was afraid to ask.

Her father sighed. “I didn’t have a chance to—”

Ruben tapped Emma’s nose. “Hello, baby girl. No crinkle-nose for me today?”

Rachel moved some of Emma’s dark curls behind her ear. “This baby girl isn’t feeling too well.”

Ruben kissed Emma’s cheek. “Get better, so you can tease me about my stink.” He straightened. “Jacob! Congratulations. The Elders decided publishing a newspaper was a man’s job, and you’re the one they picked.”

“What? It’s my newspaper, Jacob Sauder. You can’t have it.”

Jacob shook his head, his look patient. “It is your weariness and worry makes you react so, Mudpie. We are partners, remember? And the
Chalkboard
belongs to the community.”

Rachel nodded, her anger dissolved in the face of his sense. “I did not mean to sound selfish. You are right. I am tired.”

As a buggy came barreling into the yard, the geese set up a terrible ruckus, mated pairs flying in every direction. “Bishop Zook,” Zelda Burkhart called. “Your wife has taken a bad turn. You’d best come.”

* * * *

If ever there was a time Jacob wanted to hold Rachel, it was now.

Bishop Zook came from his wife’s sickroom and approached his daughters. They rose, along with twenty or so friends who’d come in the past few hours to offer support.

“Your mama is home with the Lord,” he said. “He is merciful.”

Ruben stepped up to Esther, becoming her self-appointed rock and she turned into his embrace.

Jacob fisted his hands and willed his feet not to move as Simon went to Rachel. He was pleased that Simon had thought of Rachel first for once. He was. Past time Simon was there for Rache, but oh, how he ached to be the one she leaned on.

Simon seated Rachel, spoke to her for a minute, then brought her a glass of lemonade. After a bit, he came to Jacob. “Come and help me with the Bishop’s milking.”

Everyone would take over Bishop Zooks chores until after his wife’s funeral. That Simon was the first to offer made Jacob as confused as he was about everything else these days. Instead of being glad Simon did what he should, Jacob worried over his sudden change.

Rachel and Esther lovingly washed and dressed their mother for her laying-out. They combed her hair and placed her kapp on her head for the last time.

Fannie went to the Sauder house to care for Aaron and Emma. Rachel sat up for the next two nights beside her mother’s coffin with Esther and their father. Simon did not stray from her side, except to do chores, his and the Bishop’s. Jacob and Levi helped with both.

Aaron and Emma cried for Momly. Jacob spent as much time with them as he could, because they missed Rachel, but after they slept at night, he left them with Levi and returned to the Zook house to keep vigil by Mary Zook’s bier, thinking about his own mother.

How protective Mom had always been of him and Anna. He remembered Simon’s look — he was three when they were born — when Mom would scream at him for going near them, as if he meant them harm. Sometimes she called he and his twin God’s special children … because He’d saved them, when they’d been born too soon, Jacob knew.

Jacob wondered if Simon understood that.

What would Mom say for this mess he’d gotten him and Rachel into, Jacob wondered. She would not approve of what happened between them. She would not think him so special now.

He could imagine her telling him to move on with his life, so Rachel and Simon could have theirs. Marriage was sacred and forever to Mom. She would say they needed him gone so they could make their marriage work.

She would be right.

Jacob looked at his brother kneeling in prayer by Mrs. Zook’s casket. He seemed determined to change. This death had made a difference in him.

Jacob shook his head. No, that was not right. Simon had changed before this. His care of Aaron was the first noticeable change. His care of Rachel now, in her sorrow, was another. Would there be more? Would Rachel come to accept Simon again as a wife should? If so, Jacob wondered, would he have the grace to step aside and accept it?

The morning of the funeral, freezing rain lashed the half-mile procession of buggies as they plodded toward the Mud Creek bridge. When they crossed, the bridge’s roof gave them respite from ice pinging on buggy-roofs, but the echo of their passage was ominous.

Jacob saw the carved beam as he passed. ‘Where will you spend eternity? Heaven or Hell?’ To him, the answer was clear … unless something changed. Could he redeem himself, and Rachel too, by living his life so as to allow her and Simon to live theirs? He sighed. The question plagued him these days, but the answer, he feared, would not come any time soon.

The hearse, a one-horse springwagon, seat pushed forward, carried Mary Zook in a canvas-covered walnut casket to the
Graabhof
, the Amish district cemetery.

As one of the men, including Ruben, who carried the casket to and from the hearse, Jacob stood by the side of the grave. They viewed Mrs. Zook — her husband’s black umbrella keeping the rain from her face — one last time before the top half of the hinged coffin covered her for eternity.

Rachel’s weeping called to him. Simon whispered to her, held his arm about her, kissed her forehead in comfort. And Jacob’s heart clenched. Could he set her free? Could he not?

Each preacher had spoken at Zook’s house before leaving for the cemetery. Simon had waxed particularly eloquent. He even said he would not make the sermon long; the weather must be unpleasant for the horses standing in the freezing rain.

Simon surprised Jacob more every day.

The Bishop closed and kissed the coffin, then he opened his bible. “Here on earth, discover what you are, what your existence is, and how swiftly flees your span of life from time to eternity. For after you are gone, your deeds will speak louder than when you lived.”

With the other pallbearers, Jacob lifted the coffin by a set of straps as supporting crosspieces were removed, then lowered it to its final resting place. Ruben placed boards over the casket, and each pallbearer lifted a shovel and began to fill the grave.

The sound of weeping grew.

Soil hit the wood with mournful thumps, turning swiftly to cold mud. With the grave half-filled, they halted for the Bishop to read a last prayer. The men removed their hats, icy stings on their heads and faces going unheeded as they prayed, then the task of covering the grave was finished, the dirt mounded.

As one, all turned to leave the cemetery for the Zook house and the fellowship meal. On this cold November day, hot coffee and warm raisin pie would be welcomed.

Ruben placed his shovel into the back of the hearse and took Esther’s arm as her father accepted condolences from friends.

Esther stumbled, cried out and grabbed her stomach. “Oh, no! My baby!”

Jacob caught her other arm.

“Rachel,” Jacob called. “Esther is in labor.”

Ruben passed out.

* * * *

As Rachel ran to Esther, she thought of the saying in Fannie’s kitchen. ‘God will give me nothing today that He and I cannot face together.’ She put her arm around Es wondering why God thought they could handle this on the heels of their mother’s funeral. A minute ago, she’d doubted her own ability to take another step, much less hold someone up.

Perseverance it was called.

Forcing herself not to seek out Jacob, she looked at Simon. “Let’s take her to our house, then everyone can go to Pop’s as planned.”

Simon nodded and supported Es. He was trying, Rachel would too.

An hour later, after searching for the English doctor, as Ruben had loudly demanded, despite Esther’s protests, Jacob came toward her room where Esther labored.

“The doctor is still in Philadelphia,” Jacob told Ruben pacing outside the door.

“Well, find another one!” Ruben shouted.

“There isn’t one. Es doesn’t need a doctor, she has Rachel,” Jacob said coming into the room.

Always, everybody has me, Rachel thought. And who do I have?

She had Simon, she silently answered. But if he was the same Simon as before, he would only turn on her once she was his again.

Jacob, she could count on … though not according to the vows she’d taken with Simon.

Rachel almost sobbed. Lord she was too sad, too tired from keeping vigil by her mother’s coffin night after night, and too worried about Es, to think straight right now. And she hated how her worry over Simon’s change of attitude ate at her.

Jacob offered his hand in support and Rachel took it. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “I never gave birth.”

He squeezed her hand. “You can do it.”

Emma cried in Esther’s arms. Esther crooned to her, stopped to pant, then settled Emma by her side. Fannie, who’d stayed with the twins during the funeral, had gone to help with the fellowship meal at Pop’s.

Rachel touched Emma’s forehead. “She doesn’t feel too good.”

Esther’s smile became a grimace. “Neither do I.”

“I will send Ruben to my father’s to get some of the more experienced women to help,” Rachel said.

“No, I do not want any of them. I do not want a public display but a quiet birth. Just you, Rache. Please?”

Rachel took Esther’s hand. “For what good I will be, I am here for you. Promise you will stay with me when my time comes.”

“Nothing could keep me away.” It was all Rachel could do not to step into Jacob’s arms, he stood so close, and ask him to take this burden from her.

When Esther and Emma seemed settled and drowsy, Rachel stepped from the room, Jacob behind her. “I’ll get some cabbage juice,” she said. “Maybe it will help settle her stomach. I don’t know what else to do.”

Ruben followed them, two men acting like lost puppies.

“You don’t know what to do about who?” Ruben asked. “Emma or Esther?”

“Ya,” Jacob said. “Whose stomach are you trying to settle? Emma’s or Esther’s?”

In the middle of the kitchen, Rachel looked from one anxious face to the other. Why did they think she had all the answers? She didn’t know anything about children’s illnesses or delivering babies. Pregnancy and childbirth had always been a great mystery to her, so unattainable, she thought her problems would all be solved if she could only have a baby of her own.

Now, she would. But no problems were solved because of it. More were added.

Delighted and grateful — oh so very grateful — as she was, over her approaching motherhood, as much as she loved this child, her world was more in turmoil than ever.

And they wanted her to solve all these frightening problems? Rachel looked through the kitchen window, but she could see nothing save rain sliding down in sheets. Out of control. Like her life.

She began to cry.

By the looks on their faces, she didn’t know who she shocked more, Jacob or Ruben. Their astonishment made her laugh.

Frightened by Rachel’s changing moods, Jacob took her into his arms. “Go get Emma, will you, Ruben? And bring her downstairs. See if there’s anything Es needs while you’re at it.”

Ruben looked as if he’d been asked to step into the mouth of hell.

“Just do it,” Jacob said. “I can’t believe you’re afraid of a birth.”