Jacob's Return (21 page)

Unkabear.

Rachel shook her head wondering again at the surprising difference in her husband. After the hearing over her newspaper, he’d changed. How could that be, considering his cutting, hateful words to her there?

Unkabear.

Could Aaron’s innocent, unconditional love have wrought such a change in his once hard-edged uncle? If so, it couldn’t be just a day and a half of Aaron’s company that made the difference. No, it had taken longer than that. Aaron had been breaking down Simon’s defenses bit by bit since his very first day here.

Yet if Simon had returned Aaron’s regard before their time in the tobacco field, no one saw it … yet Rachel couldn’t help suspect that Simon had wanted to return it. Perhaps he’d been afraid, or he didn’t know how. More than likely, he had fought the urge. Knowing Simon, he would have seen it as weak.

However it came about, Simon was suddenly and surprisingly the same man who comforted her four years before. As she’d sat beside her mother’s coffin, Simon next to her, his quiet support reminded her why she’d married him.

But support was not love. His caring had been false four years before. It could be false now. Before they wed, to win her, he’d been pleasant and caring. He’d supported her through losing Jacob. All to win her. But for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why he wanted her. He disliked her in every way. She didn’t think he loved her, not even at the beginning, not even with a love as weak and brief as hers had been for him.

The answer to why he married her had to come down to the one fact that had colored Simon’s entire life; he wanted what belonged to Jacob.

So why pretend now? She no longer belonged to Jacob. Simon no longer needed to win her. They were already married and would be for the rest of their lives.

Why would he pretend now?

The question plagued her.

Perhaps there was no pretense. Perhaps Simon cared for her at last.

The new question, could she find it in her heart to care for him again? After everything they’d been through, would it be possible for them to make their marriage work? Couples with a good marriage were the best parents. And for this baby … She placed her hand on her belly. For this child, she was willing to do anything, even become a wife to Simon again. Her babe would need a good home. A family to love.

Though family without Jacob seemed no family at all, Rachel knew she must be strong.

She might see if Simon had truly changed by the way he reacted when he learned that Jacob had asked Esther to marry him. Simon would no longer need to win her from Jacob — because Jacob had Esther now — so he might revert to his hurtful ways, as he had when she was his upon their marriage. But if he continued to be caring and thoughtful, knowing Jacob no longer posed a threat, perhaps they could repair their differences.

If so, she would work it out with him, her mind said.

But she loved Jacob, her heart cried.

It didn’t matter now. As surely as she belonged to Simon, Jacob belonged to Esther. He’d left Es tonight when it was time to wash her after her son’s birth. And he sat in the dark kitchen when Rachel came down and passed through, but he did not speak, and neither did she. What could be spoken between them not already said? Especially now.

How could she say she was happy for him, when her heart cried at the final proof they would never be together. Two marriages now there would be between them. They would live separate lives in separate places. Her father would welcome Jacob and Esther to his farm with open arms. She would remain here with Simon.

Rachel’s eyes filled. Aaron and Emma would be her sister’s to raise, which Esther would do admirably. But right now, Rachel’s heart bled at the thought of them not being hers to guide into adulthood. That she would see them often, probably daily, was the only thing keeping her from utter despair.

Would they call Es Momly?

She covered her child with a possessive hand. “Mine, you will always be,” she whispered. “Come what may. No one will ever take you from me.”

Was the cost of her night with Jacob being exacted in painful fragments? She’d lost Mom … No. Rachel shook her head in denial. Mom had been ill for years. An end to her suffering was a blessing not a punishment.

And her newspaper had
not
been taken away.

Jacob was right. Of all the men the Elders might have placed as publisher, he would respect her wishes. He was already her partner, a fate Simon had sealed by destroying those parts. But she would not anguish over that again. She already forgave him.

Jacob was right about something else. No matter who oversaw its printing, her paper was for the community.

As right as Jacob had been about that, Simon had been wrong about something else. Barrenness was not her punishment for her pride in her newspaper. She carried a child. A miracle she thought never to have.

No, she was not being punished. She must be grateful for this miracle of life and stop feeling as if Jacob and the twins were being taken from her, because they were never hers in the first place.

If there was a forfeit due for her sin, it had not been exacted yet. She would continue to hope for mercy.

Rachel looked at the work before her. When she conceived the idea for the
Amish Chalkboard
, she decided there would be a different kind of death notice. Her column called ‘Legacies,’ other newspapers called, ‘Obituaries.’ At a person’s passing, Rachel told his or her story. She spoke of how the world was left better for he or she having been here, intending that people rejoice for the life lived and remember the person who’d passed with smiles as a result of her words.

It was sad, though, she thought, going over what she’d written, that the first ‘Legacy’ she set in type was about her mother.

Rachel slid her hands over a tray of letters carefully set, slot by tiny slot. Her second story was a joyful notice of Daniel’s birth.

One story for a life fulfilled, one for a life begun.

Poor Mom, she had missed the pleasure of holding her first grandchild by days.

Without warning, a warmth replaced Rachel’s sadness and she knew in her heart that Mom was happy, that she rejoiced in Daniel’s birth.

Then elation became awareness and Rachel sensed a presence.

She need not look to know who stood behind her. But she turned toward the open side door anyway, where Jacob stood backlit by moonlight. Always she sensed him. Even at the funeral yesterday, she’d known every move he made, how he endured almost with pain, as did she, Simon’s attention to her.

How she’d wished it was him holding her.

She scraped her chair back and stood. To share her first printed newspaper with him would be enough. “I’m setting type for tomorrow’s
Chalkboard
.”

“I had to do it.” Jacob stepped forward and offered his hand.

But she dare not take it. “Because of how much you love Esther. She deserves no less.”

“I do love her, but not in the same way I—”

“Shh.” Rachel put a finger to his lips. “You’d better make her a good husband, Jacob.”

“And Simon had better make you one.”

Her sob threatened to choke her and she could not stop it from bursting forth. Then Jacob’s arms held her so tight, so well, so beautifully and lovingly well, that she wanted the moment never to end.

Tears and kisses mingled until, seemingly at the same moment, they remembered they must stop. Jacob held her while she cried in his arms. “I just want you to be happy,” he said, over and over. “Just be happy, Mudpie.”

When she calmed, he put her firmly from himself and stepped back. “I pray Simon has truly changed, and I needed to give the both of you, and that baby, a chance to be a family. If you will live a long and happy life, then so will I. Now, let’s finish printing our first
Amish Chalkboard
on your very own Gutenberg.”

No other word did they speak of his sacrifice. He would be good and loving to Esther, Rachel knew.

As she would be good and loving to Simon, God grant her the strength.

They worked all night, side by side. Of like mind when it came to the stories and their placement, their combined efforts made the work she loved more rewarding. They worked for long stretches in silence. A good, comfortable silence.

This they would always have between them, this printing of the newspaper together. In her heart, Rachel thanked the Elders.

* * * *

The last of one hundred issues came off the press at cock-crow.

They left them near the press, on
Grossmutter’s
old desk, to be distributed later, and went to begin their day, Jacob with the milking and she with the twins.

Emma’s rash was completely gone this morning, so Rachel decided to allow the twins to play together again. She sent Levi off to help Simon and Jacob with the farm chores.

When Ruben came to the door looking for Jacob, she sent him to distribute the newspapers around the valley, then she took the twins and went to bring Esther her breakfast. “He’s still sleeping?” Rachel asked, entering Esther’s room.

“Not still.” Esther smiled. “Again. He has a good appetite, my Daniel Jacob.”

Aaron took a disinterested look into the cradle and found the food Rachel was setting beside Esther of worthier note.

It took a minute before Emma noticed the baby, but when she did, she giggled and hopped up and down in her excitement, then, fast as a wink, she reached into the cradle with both hands.

Esther caught her hands in time, and gently, she tugged Emma around the cradle and up onto the bed.

“Rachel,” Esther said. “Get Daniel for me and we’ll let Emma hold him here where I can help her.”

Rachel let out her breath and chuckled. “A mother’s instinct must come the minute the baby is born, because you did that good. Do you think I’ll have it when mine comes?” She lifted Daniel and took a moment to savor his warm face in her neck and stroke his tiny silken fingers. “I don’t want to let him go.”

Esther nodded in understanding. “Last night, when he woke up, I held him long after he finished nursing, and I prayed. I … asked for Daniel’s blessing for me and Jacob.”

“I’m certain you have it,” Rachel said, handing Daniel over. She watched while Esther put the baby into Emma’s arms and held both of them at the same time.

“You do that good too.”

“Ya.” After a minute, Esther sighed. “I don’t know if this is right?”

“It looks right to me.”

Emma rubbed noses with Daniel, stroked his tiny fingers.

“Not them. Me and Jacob. I just don’t know about us.”

“But you said yes, Esther.”

“I know I did. But I’m frightened. And, Rache, I know how you feel about him.”

Rachel sat on the bed facing her sister. “If Simon continues acting the way he has been for the past few days, I’m going to be a good wife to him. In every way.”

Esther looked stunned.

“Both of us need to think of our babies,” Rachel said.

Esther nodded. “We do.”

At noon, Rachel placed the egg-bread and ‘soup balls in broth’ on the table. “Did you deliver all the newspapers already, Ruben? Some corn pie, Levi?”

“Ya.
Goot
.”

“Didn’t get to the newspapers yet, Rache. Sorry. Needed to talk to Jake.”

Rachel looked up from cutting Aaron’s sausage. “But the papers are gone. I just came from the barn. Jacob, did you take them around?”

Jacob stood, ready to act, but looked confused about where to begin. “Not me, Mudpie. Are you certain they’re gone?”

“I have my copy,” Levi said. “Already read most of it. Found it on the porch, thought you left it, Rachel.
Goot
story about little Daniel Jacob.”

Simon came in and sat down. Rachel tried very hard not to judge, but she was worried he’d destroyed their night’s work. “Did you see the newspapers, Simon? The ones we left in the barn.”

“I did. Please pass the chow chow, Datt?”

Levi passed the bowl.

“Did you take them?” Jacob asked, not hiding his suspicion.

“Thought they were ready for people to take,” he said an innocent look on his face. “They were, weren’t they? Ham loaf, please. Did I do something wrong?”

Jacob skirted the table and stood next to Simon until his brother finally looked up. “I’ve had about enough of this. We played by your rules. We have official approval of the Elders. I acted as publisher like they wanted. What did you do with them?”

“With the Elders?”

“The newspapers, dammit!”

“Dammit! the twins echoed.

“Dammit! Dammit!” Aaron giggled.

Levi laughed and got a stern look from Jacob.

“The newspapers are gone,” Simon said. “It’s too late to get them back. I can’t say I’m sorry. You’ll just—”

Everyone looked up when someone knocked at the kitchen door. Bishop Zook stepped inside and came right to Rachel. “
Leibchen
, the story about your mama … Ach.” He ignored his tears and hugged her. “You make your Pop very happy, Rachel. Mom too, I know.”

Rachel pulled back to look at her father better. “You read my story? About Mom? Where did you get a copy of the paper?”

“Simon brought it to me this morning. Like he brought Adam Skyler’s and Elam Yoder’s to them.”

Rachel turned to her husband not certain she believed he’d helped, despite what her father said. “Simon, you delivered the newspapers? All of them?”

“All of them.” He fished in his pants’ pockets and brought out some coins. “Four cents each printed, to pay for the ink, I told people. You wanted to mail some to the other Amish settlements, I know, but there are none left. You’ll have to print more next time.”

Rachel gripped her father’s sleeve. “Simon, you delivered my newspapers?”

Simon chuckled. “You already asked me that, Rachel. And I answered you.”

“Why? You hate my newspaper.”

Simon looked at her father before answering. “The Elders decided the way it should be,” he said. “You followed their rules. Our people like your newspaper. I ...” He cleared his throat. “I have much to make up for, I know. I thought if people saw me deliver them, they would know I accept the Elders’ decision and also I … understand … I was wrong.”