Lilly's Wedding Quilt (32 page)
“No reins yet. Just a lead rope that I’ll have control of.”
Jacob put his hand on Buttercup’s withers. “One of the first things to learn is to never squeeze with your knees! Squeezing tells Buttercup you want her to run.”
Lilly’s knees visibly relaxed.
“Then what do I do with my legs?”
“I’ll show you. It’s all about balance. Sit up straight like a good student.”
Lilly started breathing hard.
“You can sit up better than that.”
“I’m scared.”
“It’s okay, Lilly. I don’t want you to get hurt. Trust me.” He put the balls of her feet on the stirrups. “Okay, put your heels down. Like this.” He placed one foot in proper position. “This gives you the balance you need to be safe in the saddle. Sitting up straight makes sure your heels are directly in line with your hips and your hips in line with your neck. Think about a stack of building blocks.”
Lilly tried to get herself straightened up. When she did, her eyes lit up in surprise. “I don’t feel like I’m going to fall off!”
“Right! That’s the point. Okay, I want you to close your eyes. I’m going to walk Buttercup in the round pen.”
Lilly’s eyes flew open wide.
Jacob spoke to her as softly. “Trust me, Lilly. Close your eyes. Hold on. Breathe. I want you to just let yourself move with the horse. Think about not tensing and relaxing into the rhythm of the horse’s walk and breathing.”
He moved Buttercup toward the center of the pen, then rounded her, leading her slowly. At first Lilly tensed and forgot to breathe. But at his encouragement, he could see her relax and begin to smile.
“Jacob,” she said in a stage whisper. “This is amazing! I am on one of
Derr Herr’s
creatures.”
“Riding a horse is completely about mutual trust, Lilly,” he said while continually leading the mare slowly about the pen. In a quiet voice he went on. “Horses are all about relationship and trust. Horses will only yield to you if they are forced or if they trust. They will only have a positive relationship with you if you spend time together, building that trust. I want that kind of marriage with you, Lilly. Where we spend time together, learn to trust each other.”
He led Buttercup to the hitching post. “Okay, Lilly. You can dismount now. “
“What?”
“That’s it—you’re done. Lesson one is over.”
He was delighted to see the look of disappointment on her face.
L
illy couldn’t believe the feeling of wonder she felt when she finally relaxed into Buttercup’s movements. She didn’t dare tell Jacob she wanted another lesson right away. Well, as long as all she had to do was hold onto the saddle horn and let him lead her around. She wasn’t certain she wanted to try any more than that.
Jacob began to lead Buttercup back to the barn, when the horse stumbled. “That’s not right,” he muttered. He lifted her foot and studied the hoof. “
Ach
, well …”
“What is it?”
“Buttercup needs a tire replaced. I didn’t notice it when I picked her feet before you came. I was in a bit of a hurry. It just goes to show that life is full of little things that can’t be predicted.” He shot a glance at her. “And sometimes that’s good.”
Lilly nodded. “I agree.”
“Okay, we’ll have to go over to the smithy shed.”
“Like a blacksmith shed? I thought people had to go into Lockport to … er, change their tires.”
“Nope …
Daed
taught us young and well how to do it ourselves. Otherwise, we’d be going to town three times a week. Come on, you might find it interesting to watch.”
Lilly followed him and the horse, remembering to take off her helmet, then grumbling as she felt her hair slip down a bit.
“Just ahead,” he called as they crossed the paddock. “It’s this far building on the right.”
He slid the door wide and led Buttercup inside while Lilly followed, blinking in the dim light until he turned up a lamp on a workbench.
She glanced around the barn. It was reinforced with cement on the floor and presented a neat and unusual arrangement of tools hanging or attached to the walls or ceiling beams. And, of course, horseshoes in all shapes and sizes resting in metal boxes. Buttercup stood placidly where Jacob had tied her. Then there was an anvil and hammer and a funny-looking post on a low tripod.
She looked over at Jacob, who’d taken off his coat and hat and rolled up his white sleeves. He pulled a leather apron, obviously heavy, from a peg on the wall and slipped it over his front. She thought vaguely that it suited him, emphasizing the strength in his arms and shoulders.
She moved to watch the proceedings from a better vantage point when he gently lifted Buttercup’s front leg and pulled it between his legs. He had a hoof pick and was removing the dirt accumulated in the hoof. “I picked it before, but now I need to get the rest of the dirt.
“Do you see? The shoe is a little loose—it’s pulling away from the hoof.” He took out some kind of snippers and each little nail came out at his bidding.
Then he drew a tool from the workbench that looked like a cross between a tree trimmer and oversize pliers. With them he started to cut off about a good half inch of the hoof, going all the way around it.
“
Ach
, doesn’t that hurt her a bit?” Lilly asked.
He had taken the funny tripod and had placed Buttercup’s foot on the piece that came up through the middle of the tripod. He was busy now, filing and shaping the hoof with a large rasp, like he was giving the horse an
Englisch
manicure.
“It doesn’t hurt her a bit. Her hooves are like our fingernails basically, only a bit harder, of course. Horseshoes keep the hooves from wearing down too fast on the road and from injuries due to stones. However, the hooves need to be shortened since they continue to grow—also like our fingernails. So, we need to reshoe every six to eight weeks, unless one works loose, like now.”
She watched him take a new shoe from one of the bins. He held it up to Buttercup’s foot, then began to hammer it out on the anvil.
“Now I just put the shoe back on again. It takes eight nails, and you drive them through the holes on the shoe until the point comes out at an angle through the side of the hoof.” He bent and hammered while Buttercup stood unconcerned. “Then you hammer the points back into the hoof to anchor it and secure it a bit more with this little tool. All that’s left is to rasp the hoof down even with the shoe. And there we go.” He lifted his dark head, brushing his hair back out of his eyes, and looked at her.
“What do you think?”
“I think that life’s little unpredictable happenings can sometimes take a lot of specialized knowledge to fix.”
He laughed and laid the tools aside, then came close to where she stood. He lifted his hand to a stray tendril of brown hair that brushed her cheek, then bent his lips to the curl. She watched him, entranced.
“Do you enjoy the unexpected, Mrs. Wyse?” he asked, reaching his hand around to the nape of her neck and lowering his head.
The barn door slid open and he broke away with a rough noise.
“Hey … where’d you two go? Abel and I are done—” Seth grinned at them. “Are you?”
L
illy and Abel were already tucked snug and waiting in the sled when Seth motioned Jacob back inside the barn.
“Here,” he said, “before you go. I’ve got your present.”
“You didn’t have to get me something.”
“You always say that. Just open it.”
Jacob tore the brown paper off the large rectangle, then stared in amazement at the running herd of wild horses that seemed to breathe across the canvas.
“Seth, it’s remarkable. I’ve never seen anything like it. I feel like I can hear them running.”
“That’s what your
fraa
said when I showed her the painting. Remember? Upstairs? When I was a little too interested in my
schweschder
-in-law.” His voice lowered with regret.
Jacob held the painting close to his chest, then reached out and gave his brother an honest hug.
“All right. Come on,” Seth said, pushing him away. “
Hallich gebottsdaag
tomorrow.”
“
Danki
. Oh, and how was Abel?”
Seth looked at the ground. “He’s a great kid. Hidden, you know, like a pool in the woods. But great.”
Jacob nodded. “You would see him that way—as a wonder to be discovered. You’ll be a
gut
father one day, little
bruder
.”
“I’ll wait for you first.”
Jacob laughed and felt something tingle in his belly when he thought of having children with Lilly. It was a primal, instinctive feeling that triggered a flash of heated longing to see a baby of their making and to discover what hazel eyes would look like washed with those as blue as the sea.
S
o, what are you going to give him?” Alice asked with interest as she poured them each a cup of cinnamon tea.
Lilly shrugged. “I don’t know. I want it to be something memorable, but I’m not sure that I’m going to find that in a store. Seth gave him a beautiful painting of horses.”
Alice stirred sugar into her cup. “Well, you can’t top that.”
“You are very helpful, Alice.”
“I try to be.”
Both of them stared at the table a few moments.
“Okay,” Alice said. “I know this doesn’t sound like much. But why not make him a card? I actually prefer a homemade card with someone’s special note for me in it rather than a present.”
Lilly frowned, remembering the valentine she’d tossed away in her youth.
“
Ach
, never mind,” her friend said hastily, as if reading her mind. “Though you have to admit that it’s odd that you tried to give him a valentine that long ago and now he is your husband.”
“It is strange. It’s clear I don’t know him any better than I did as a
maedel
. He’s—he’s like something wild, you know? Like a storm coming over the mountain and you can feel that charge in the air.” She lifted her cup to her lips and blew across the hot tea. “I guess I sound silly.”
Alice patted her hand. “You sound like you’re in love. So, he’s wild, hmm? Maybe you could think of something along those lines.”
O
n the morning of Valentine’s Day, Lilly was up at three o’clock, sitting in bed, waiting for her husband to stir from his nest on the floor. Her heart pounded with excitement as she considered what she planned to give him for his birthday—if he would accept.
Soon, the telltale rustle of the quilts and the sound of his sigh let her know that he was waking. She waited a minute more, then spoke softly in the still dark room.
“Jacob?”
“What? Yes? You scared me.”
“Sorry. I wanted to wish you
Hallich gebottsdaag
.”
“It couldn’t wait?”
“I wanted to tell you what your present is going to be. Will you come here?”
She heard him fumble with the quilts a bit.
“Uh … sure.”
She felt him feel his way along the side of the bed, then sit down next to her. The clean smell of his skin came to her in the dark, fresh like Christmas pines. She reached out and made contact with his shoulder, letting her fingers smooth up and down the muscle. “I thought I’d give you a gift that you might remember.”
She felt him tense and she smiled at her devious ways.
“All right …”
“So, you agree to accept?” She slipped her hand to the base of his throat and then up around the back of his neck.
“I agree.” His breathing changed.
“Then, for your birthday, I’d like to give you—twenty-six kisses.”
“Twenty-six kisses?”
She wasn’t sure if she heard relief or disappointment threaded through his voice.
“
Jah
. Twenty-five for your age, and one for the coming year.”
“Do I … uh, get them all now?”
She laughed and let her hand caress his chest. “No, throughout the day. Anywhere, anytime that you ask or I choose.”
She closed her eyes against the boldness of her own words. She couldn’t quite believe she was talking this way.
“I think I’ll start now.” She felt for the spot on his body that she was envisioning in her mind. It was the underside of his upper arm, that silken play of tanned muscles just inches from where he’d been shot. She rubbed her fingers against the spot, and hearing his faint gasp, decided that
rumspringa
or not, no one had probably ever kissed him there before.
She flicked her hair over her shoulder and leaned forward, letting her mouth follow her hands until she drew her fingers away and then let her lips discover the spot in a long, heated breath. She felt him shake when she moved back and was more than a little shaken herself at the same time, but she kept her voice level and low.
“That was one.
Hallich gebottsdaag
.”
“Uh … okay … thanks … I think I’ll just get dressed … and go … somewhere … To, uh, work, I mean.”
She felt him start to rise from the bed and slipped out from beneath the quilts. “Jacob?”
“Yes?”
“Would you like your second kiss? Because I can smell your hair—it’s just like soft pine. And I can picture it shining in the sun, with the blond and chestnut highlights mixed together.” She ran her fingers down the length of his hair and felt him shudder. “Will you turn
sei so gut
, so that I can kiss you at the back of your neck?” He made a small sound, then she felt him shift on the bed. She stretched out her hands and the width of his bare back felt tense and drawn beneath her touch. She knelt behind him and lifted the back of his hair. She sensed when he bent his neck forward and then she was kissing him again … this time in two quick nips.
