Forevermore (11 page)

“That’s a fine way of thinkin’ on it. Makes me grateful both ways.”

Smiling pulled the muscles in Jakob’s face contrary to where they wanted to go, and the tiny nick he’d gotten shaving twinged. Served him right. He’d been so busy looking for Hope to accomplish things a certain way, he’d been blind to the truth. Busy remonstrating with himself as he took care of his morning ablutions, Jakob managed to catch the angle of his jaw with the razor. The styptic pencil stopped the bleeding. If he hadn’t already been wide awake, the sting from the pencil would have done the job.

Ever since her arrival, the chaos of his household had changed. The shift had been so subtle, he’d failed to notice what was right under his nose. Just because she approached tasks differently didn’t mean they weren’t accomplished. He’d mistaken her flexibility for disorganization.

“I don’t come to change things. I just come to help out.”
The words she’d spoken after their first supper ran through his mind. She’d changed just about everything . . . but Jakob had to admit, for the good.

By Saturday, the reaping would be done . . . and Hope would leave. She’d agreed to stay through harvest. One taste of her cooking, and word would spread—other farmers would snap her up. Even if he convinced her to stay through threshing, Jakob knew that wouldn’t be more than another week or so—not nearly long enough. He had to convince her to stay longer, but would she agree? She had her own livelihood to consider.

He’d come back downstairs, rehearsing what he wanted to say. Off-balance at not finding her in the house, he’d come out onto the porch and ended up talking about boots. That was all well and good, but—

“I’m needing to get back to the stove. Time to stir up the oatmeal.”

“Wait.” He couldn’t risk letting her go without trying to secure her. “I wanted to—”

“Whoops! I hear your sis. ’Scuse me.” She bustled past him and into the house. “ ’Mornin’, Annie! Looks like we all wanted worms today.”

“Is Jakob going fishing? Today?”

Jakob opened the door. “Don’t tempt me. I think Hope meant we all rose early.”

“Yup. The early bird gets the worm.” Hope washed her hands at the kitchen pump.

Jakob and Annie exchanged a stunned look. Hope hadn’t mangled the cliché.

Oblivious to their astonishment, Hope finished washing up. “Reckon that’s why roosters make a bunch of racket at the crack of sunrise. Ain’t that just like a man—to go squawkin’ if ’n he’s hungry?” She laughed. “And truth be told, I’m just like all the hens that start a-cluckin’ after his first notes. Only they lay the eggs and I just cook ’em.”

“I’ll make breakfast.” Annie cast a glance at the stove, and her face fell. “You already started.”

“Yup. But tell you what: If ’n y’all go on ahead and make shore the oatmeal don’t burn and maybe set the milk and buttermilk on the table, I’ll see to a few other chores.”

“Hope is right. It’s early yet. Do I have time to milk the cows before breakfast?”

“I can set the oatmeal aside and leave the lid on so it stays hot.” Annie chewed on her lower lip for an instant—one of the habits she’d never had until she’d married Konrad. The action tattled on how uncertain and easily flustered she’d become.

“Better still, why don’t Phineas and I each milk a cow? That way, everything should be done about the same time. He can muck the stable while I go to town.”

“Aunt Annie? Miss Hope? Daddy?” Emmy-Lou’s tone grew more shrill with each name.

Jakob called, “We’re already downstairs,
Liebling
. Come down to us.”

“Daddy?” Near panic still quavered in her tone.

“I’m comin’ to fetch you.” Hope sounded easygoing, yet she mounted the stairs with notable speed. “Fact is, I needed to come grab my hairpins. I clean forgot ’em.” A second later, her voice drifted down the stairs to Jakob. “Now, lookee at that. See that purdy little wren out there?”

“It’s too dark. I don’t see him.”

Jakob tensed, ready to go up and soothe his daughter’s fears.

“He hopped behind that branch, but you can still hear him.

Betcha he heard the rooster and decided to make up a mornin’ song for hisself. You wanna sing a tune whilst we get you dressed and I pin up my hair?”

“I shouldn’t have left her all by herself up there.” Distress twisted Annie’s features.

“What will we sing?” Emmy-Lou asked.

Jakob relaxed at how eagerness replaced the fearful tone in his daughter’s voice. “Emmy-Lou is fine, Annie. Hope is good with her. Listen . . . she’s already singing. It will take time, but she will get over her fears.” Jakob wasn’t sure whether he was trying to convince his sister or himself. His cousin Miriam had been minding Emmy-Lou when the accident happened. Though no one else blamed her, Miriam couldn’t forgive herself or forget. She’d been every bit as anxious as Emmy-Lou—which was why she eventually left.

Snatches of a ditty drifted down to him. Hope didn’t dwell on Emmy-Lou’s fear, but instead diverted her attention toward something fun.
I should remember that trick.

“She
is
singing.” Annie’s shoulders melted with relief.

Jakob smiled at his sister. “See? All is well. I’m going to do the milking.” How many times had he reassured her about things since he’d brought her home? He’d smooth over whatever he thought concerned her, then let her know where he’d be.
Lord, my daughter and sister are so . . . scared. So fragile. Surely you sent us Hope
.
I don’t know who needs her the most—Emmy-Lou or Annie. Almighty Father, help me now to keep Hope.

Nine

A
nnie, the rosebush is gonna be bribin’ the dog if ’n it don’t get watered today.”

“I’ll water it.” Annie set down her spoon and started to rise from the breakfast table.

Hope motioned her to sit back down. “Thankee. I keep forgettin’ it. I reckoned on getting a bunch of things done ahead of time. Your brother says he’s hoping to hurry things up a bit and have harvest start tomorrow.”

“So soon?” Annie looked horrified. “I’m not ready!”

Concern shot through Jakob as he detected the frightened edge in her voice.

Hope laughed. “Show me a woman who is! I ain’t ever seen one. But you and me—we’re a good team.” She nodded her head. “Yup. We work right fine together, don’tcha think?”

“Yesss . . .” Annie stretched out the single syllable, testing what Hope asserted. “We do.”

From the way a timid smile appeared on his sister’s face, Jakob knew Hope’s response was perfect. Gratitude filled him. “Hope, you’re right. Annie, you and Mama used to run around like chickens without their heads when Dad said harvest was upon us.”

Annie nodded.

“Women take care of their own farm and help out with the neighbors’ harvests. Hope’s probably done more harvest meals in one year than most women do in ten.” Jakob had no trouble sounding confident of that fact.

“I’ve got a way of going about getting prepared and makin’ shore things get done. Annie, do y’all mind too much if ’n I get bossy and take over? I reckon I will anyway, but havin’ you agree would make me feel better.”

“I don’t mind.” In fact, Annie sounded relieved.

“Good. I wanna earn my keep. No use in your brother hirin’ me if ’n I don’t do a bang-up good job. Ain’t that right, Mr. Stauffer?”

His mouth full, he mumbled, “Uh-huh.”

“Goin’ from pillar to roast like I do—”

“It’s from pillar to post,” Phineas corrected.

Hope blinked at him, then threw back her head and laughed. “For true? I just always figured folks said it on account of women having to rush from the porch to the kitchen.”

“Pillar to post is the cliché, but your version—it makes just as much sense.” Annie smiled.

“Bless your heart, Annie, you gotta be one of the most kindest souls God ever made.”

“She’s right.” Phineas stared over the rim of his mug at Annie.

Annie swallowed hard and dipped her head.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass y’all with my words, Annie. ’Twas just that ya got a rare kindness in your heart, and I ’preciate it. Mr. Stauffer, how’s about you givin’ your sis them raisins for her oatmeal? She needs to build up her blood.”

“No!” Annie went white, then flushed and stammered, “The men should have them.”

“I already poured maple syrup on mine.” Phineas dug into his bowl for another bite. “No raisins for me.”

“I got raisins already.” Emmy-Lou took a bite. “Mmmm-mmm!”

Though he didn’t care whether he added anything other than a sizable plop of butter to his oatmeal, Jakob took a spoonful and passed the bowl to his sister. “Hope’s right, Annie. You need to eat a lot of these. Is there anything else you think Annie should eat, Hope?”

“Liver, blackstrap molasses, and plenty of milk or cheese. Speaking of cheese, Annie, I thought we’d make farm cheese today. It’ll keep in the springhouse just fine. And we can use it to make
kasenophla
or to stuff
bierocks
. I’ll whip up a few batches of noodles today, and y’all can cut ’em. If ’n we keep ’em in the springhouse, they’ll still be nice and fresh so we can serve the men chicken and noodles. I like to measure all the dry ingredients for corn bread and cakes and drop biscuits, then store ’em in jars. Thataway, we can add the eggs and such and whip up gracious plenty real quick.”

“Okay.” Annie scooped three paltry raisins into her bowl.

“Lookee at what your auntie is doin’.” Hope tapped Emmy-Lou’s arm. “She made eyes and a nose. Do y’all think she’ll make a smile or a frown to go with ’em?”

“Make a smile, please!”

“A big one,” Jakob said. “Right, Hope?”

“No other kind. I used to do that when I was a girl.”

“You still are a girl.” Emmy-Lou wrinkled her nose and looked at Hope.

Phineas started to laugh.

Hope didn’t. She dipped her face and rested her forehead against Emmy-Lou’s. “Yup. But let me tell you a little secret: Deep inside of any grown-up is still a little piece of a child. Sometimes we get silly or scared, too.”

“You do?” Emmy-Lou twisted to face him. “Do you, Daddy?”

What man wanted to admit he couldn’t face life on his own— especially when his little daughter depended on him . . . and when his sister lived in such fear? A denial sprang to his lips, but his heart suddenly changed what came out of his mouth. “I have a heavenly Father. Just as you call for me when you are upset, I go to Him when I need help. In the Bible, David did that a lot.”

“Now, there’s a fact.” Hope subtly scooted Emmy-Lou’s cup so she wouldn’t spill her milk. “All of them psalms are David goin’ to God when he was happy or sad or ascairt.”

Annie didn’t say anything, but she carefully made a small mouth on her oatmeal.

Jakob plucked two raisins from the dish and poked them into her bowl. “Ears.”

Annie gave him a startled look.

Hope stood up, grabbed more, and leaned across the table. “I’m fixin’ to add dimples.”

Phineas added eyebrows, and Emmy-Lou decided the mouth wasn’t big enough. Jakob couldn’t recall the last time they’d had such fun at the table. Annie laughed. Laughed! And she ate, too.

The conversation drifted back to plans for the day. Hope announced, “Whilst you water the rose and Emmy-Lou helps you collect the eggs, I figured on picking vegetables and watering the garden.”

“The hens hide their eggs in hard places. I can’t find a lot of them.” Emmy-Lou swirled her spoon in her oatmeal.

“That’s why Aunt Annie and you work as a team.” It hadn’t escaped Jakob’s notice that Hope assigned the easy chores to his sister and kept the physically demanding ones for herself.

“Them raisins—they make me think we could whip up a few pies. Raisin sour cream. Shoofly pie. Golden carrot pie. What else do all y’all like?”

“Annie’s peach pie.” As soon as he spoke, Phineas cleared his throat and grabbed his coffee.

“Along with cool water to drink, Naomi always brought a bushel basket of fresh peaches out to the field at midmorning.” Much to Jakob’s surprise, the memory didn’t bring pain this time. “I would like you to bring peaches, too.”

“Emmy-Lou, you’ll remind us.” Hope smiled at his daughter. “That should be your job.”

“I can do that!”

Hope mentioned a few more tasks—assigning the easy ones to Annie again. She also got Phineas to pledge that he’d bring out the sawhorses and planks so they’d have several makeshift tables.

Annie set down her spoon. “I’m not doing my fair share.”

“That’s where you’re dead wrong.” Hope stretched far across the table and pressed her fingers down on Annie’s fingertips. The contact looked strangely intimate—strong, yet gentle. Tenderness whispered in Hope’s voice. “Every minute of every hour of every day, you’re a-weavin’ a miracle inside you. Ain’t no more important work than that. Ain’t nothin’ more sacred. Any of us could do these chores, but you—God’s trustin’ you to cradle that babe. Don’t get so caught up in the gotta-do-it-now’s that you forget you’re workin’ on something timeless.”

Tears filled Annie’s eyes. “You’re too good to me.”

Hope patted her hand. “Tell me that tonight, after I’ve bossed you around and worked you silly.”

A sense of longing rushed through Jakob as he watched the exchange. What Hope did for his daughter, alone, was wonderful; but she was magnificent with his downtrodden sister. What would it take to get Hope to stay? And how long would she be willing to remain here instead of living her rootless existence, chasing employment from one place to the next? Jakob opened his mouth to ask Hope to stay, but he thought better of it. Hope’s contentment with her wandering life could lead her to refuse his offer. If she turned him down, his sister and daughter would be crushed.

“I think Hope wants to get rid of us so they can start working.” Phineas wiped his mouth.

They recited their after-meal prayer; then Jakob went out to hitch up the buckboard for his trip to town. He didn’t know when the right opportunity would emerge for him to ask Hope to stay after the harvest.
But I must. Annie and Emmy-Lou need her so
.

“Someone’s coming.” Annie tried to brush a powdery clump of flour from her cuff as a buckboard drove up. She didn’t sound excited in the least. In fact, from the look in her eyes, Annie didn’t want anyone dropping in.