Jacob's Return (16 page)

Simon stepped too close to Rachel, as far as Jacob was concerned, and he pushed his father’s restraining hand away.

By virtue of Simon’s height, he loomed over Rachel, but to Jacob’s relief, he made no move to touch her.

“It is the business of the entire church district,” Simon pronounced distinctly, “when a member will not do her duty and bear a child.” Gasps and murmurs swelled as Simon grasped Rachel’s arms. “You would not be able to care for the house and the twins, and print your foolish newspaper, if you would do your duty,” he spat.

“I do my duty,” Rachel said.

“I mean, if you were a
real
woman!” He shook her. “If you bore a child!”

Rachel shrugged from his grasp. “I carry a child!”

Chapter 11

Deacon Simon Sauder stood as if turned to stone.

Despite the grim circumstances of her announcement, Rachel rejoiced for the child growing under her heart. And she rejoiced for such a response to her husband’s accusation. “I am not a failure. You—”

Her father cupped her shoulder. “
Liebchen
, shh. The Elders will pray now.” His touch, his soft words calmed her. “Their decision will be announced shortly.” He smiled, and it was all Rachel could do not to throw herself into his arms and weep.

Instead, she smiled. People stood in small groups, their talk rising to fever pitch, many glancing furtively in her direction.

Her neighbors were excluding her from their talk, for the first time ever. An odd feeling this, to be singled out while standing among so many.

As one, her people judged her. But how would they react if they knew her deepest secret? The answer was not to be contemplated.

Because of her disclosure, she must make a decision, here in the midst of them, that would affect the future of her unborn child … perhaps her child’s very life, if Simon ever learned the truth.

One particular, painful truth she must face right now.

The one person she could go to under any circumstances, bare her soul to, no matter its dark secrets, and still expect welcome, was Jacob. But that gentle man with whom she craved refuge was the one person on earth she most needed to exclude from the truth, while at the same time being the one who deserved it most.

The injustice made Rachel want to scream at a God she believed, for the first time in her life, might have deserted her. And if He was not watching over the life growing within her, then she must. At any cost.

She would not lie, but she would not offer unnecessary facts either. This child was hers first. Hers to protect, to nurture and to raise. She must do that in the best way she knew, within the protection of her place in this community … as Rachel Sauder, Deacon Simon Sauder’s wife.

Decision made, Rachel raised her chin and looked about. Atlee and Ruben were standing in the middle of a group of men, or she would have gone to thank them. Later she would make Atlee some sassafras tea for his rheumatism and take it to him. He’d saved her today, him and Ruben. Sometimes Ruben really surprised her.

Her mom and Esther were leaving, and before they disappeared, her mom turned and caught her eye from off to the side of the door.
Ich liebe dich,
she mouthed. I love you. And Rachel knew that mom understood more than she let on.

Still, once they left, Rachel became uncomfortable all of a sudden, and she felt remote, as if she stood in the center of a small island in the midst of an angry sea. To leave, she must walk past all of them.

She took a breath, rehearsed a few sorry excuses, and prepared to jostle her way through the crowd. Focusing on the outside door, she began the long trek through the Mast house. But she needn’t have worried. When her neighbors saw her coming, they parted before her like the Red Sea before Moses.

The Deacon and his wife had just aired their pitiful life before the world. Were there a place for her to hide, she would go. Lately, she’d wanted to hide more and more often.

She knew she must face everyone at some point, head up, eye to eye. And she would. But not today.

Jacob met her half way and took her arm, sheltering her and guiding her at the same time.

She was coming with him, his look said. He wasn’t taking no for an answer. Denial did not come to mind. Gratitude, relief, came. Outside, he helped her into his buggy. “Let’s get out of here.” He slapped the reigns. “Getup, Caliope.”

“My wagon. Gadfly,” she said, her sense of responsibility almost as strong as her dread of Simon’s reproach if something should happen to them.

“Datt said he would have Simon take them.”

She nodded. “Where are we going?”

Far far away, Jacob thought. Forever. It frightened him that his need to run away with Rachel, at this moment, was stronger than his need to breathe. “Will the children be all right at Fannie’s for a while if we don’t go right back? I mean will Fan mind?” he asked.

“They’ll be stuffed with raisin pie,” Rachel said, but other than that, they’ll be happy, and she won’t mind. She likes babies.”

He searched her face. “You do too,” he said, almost afraid of what he would see, but her eyes were vacant, unreadable, as if she’d closed that window to her soul usually open to him. “It’s a good thing.”

She looked at her hands. “Yes.”

Jacob’s disappointment cut sharper than a sickle through parched wheat. But he would not let her know how badly he needed her to look at him, to open her heart to him. Why was she shutting him out, now of all times?

He covered her trembling hands with one of his.

She grasped his fingers, hard.

He ached to ask the question burning in his brain.
Who is your child’s father?

After two years of barrenness, why would she conceive now? And yet, he knew couples who’d conceived a child after years of marriage, and then several more. This could be such a case.

Because of Simon’s abuse, disturbing pictures came to his mind — of her being frightened and forced to submit. “Was he more caring of you when ...” For the life of him, Jacob could not refer to them as making love. He looked back at the road and cleared his throat. “In bed, was he at least gentle then?”

“No.”

Jacob turned so sharply, he sent the buggy into a stand of walnut trees. Pulling Caliope up short, he stopped and stared at her. “The day you married, when Simon came to you for the first time as a husband, he was loving that night at least? Tell me yes, please.”

Rachel closed her eyes. “Only one man has ever taken me in love,” she said, revealing a deep inner regret that nearly broke him.

Fear clawed at him, remorse hammered in his head. From where did her regret stem? Did she grieve over their night together, because his gentleness had revealed Simon’s lack? Because she knew now what love could be?

He reached for her and pulled her blessedly close. “If sorrow is your legacy from our loving, I will never forgive myself,” he said into her hair.

With Jacob holding her, offering succor, Rachel could not keep from weeping. She wept over the events of the morning, over Simon’s obsession to break her. She wept in anger at herself for succumbing to his goading and baring her marked soul.

She wept for her mistake of a marriage. But she wept most of all for herself and for Jacob … alone, but together. So close, yet so far apart. For their bittersweet love. For the child she carried with joy, yet with sorrow, because she could never give that child the life she wished for him.

Jacob kissed her brow, the tears from her eyes. He slid his hand to her abdomen with a sleek trail from her face, to her neck, across her breasts and down. His touch spoke more of comfort than desire, and yet, she ached.

She looked at the man she loved.
Hold this child in your hands and in your heart. Love him as I do. He will need you, so he can grow up to be a good man. Like you
. He absorbed her with his look, his pain her own, and she reveled in the oneness.

“This child beneath my hand and your heart,” Jacob said. “Was he conceived in love, Rachel?” His voice broke with the question.

Her answer could change his life — many lives. Lord forgive her, she wanted to give him what he sought, no matter the consequences. But she could not, she must think of her child.

She pulled from his arms. “Take me home. No. Take me to get Aaron and Emma. I don’t want them stuffed with raisin pie.”

As he silently urged the horse forward, disappointment etched Jacob’s face to sharp angles, and Rachel wanted to weep for hurting him.

He sighed. “They won’t vote against your newspaper, Mudpie. Ruben and Atlee did a wonderful job of defending you.”

“Which cannot be said for how I defended myself.”

“Simon gained nothing by taking you before the Elders, except to bar himself from respect over his impending fatherhood. Only a self-centered man would not notice the changes in his wife’s cycle or her body. He has, in all but deed, shot himself in the foot. Would that I could shoot the other.”

Jacob had not been so vengeful before he left, she thought. “Did you know, without being told, that your wife was carrying?” Rachel asked, surprised at how her question seemed to affect Jacob.

“No, Mudpie. Because I never had a wife. I only found out about Emma and Aaron eight months ago, and only then, by accident.”

“Jacob. They are nearly three years old.”

“Yes,” he said with regret. “They are, and since their mother died at their birth, that makes me her killer.”

Rachel was too stunned to speak.

Jacob shook his head. “For the life of me, I don’t understand why God saw fit to give me Emma and Aaron. For I do not deserve such a reward.”

“Are … are they your only children?”

“I think so. I tried to find out after I knew about them.”

“How many women did you … did you … see, to find out?”

“Several.”

“Several is three, Jacob.”

“More than several, then.”

“Twenty? A hundred?”

Jacob took her hand. God help her, she needed his touch so badly, she brought it to her heart.

“Hush, love,” he whispered. “Are you angry that I am such a sinner? Or that I have known, in the biblical sense, a dozen women?”

“A dozen! You made love to a dozen women—”

“No! I have only ever made love to one. And if you do not know who she is, then I do not know you.”

Rachel bowed her head and swallowed. “Thank you,” she said. “I have only ever made love with you, too.”

“I know,” he said. “But do you forgive me?”

“It is not for me to forgive, Jacob.”

“There is more chance of your forgiveness, Rachel. Think about it. Please.”

She nodded, but her heart was breaking. “Let’s go get the children.”

Caliope had stopped to munch grass and neither of them had noticed. Jacob snapped the reins and the horse trotted on.

As they neared Fannie’s house, a chill ran up Rachel’s spine and it had nothing to do with Jacob’s revelation. At the sound of Emma’s crying, she pulled her shawl tight.

Fannie came out to the porch, Aaron clutching her skirt, Emma shrieking in her arms. Before Jacob could stop, Rachel made to jump from the buggy.

“Rachel!” he shouted.

The word conveyed such command, she sat.

“
Mein Gott
. Have a care for such foolishness. You could fall. ‘Tis not only yourself you would injure if you did.”

His words surprised her. She’d forgotten about the baby just then, and she was ashamed. “I wanted to get Emma. Her crying is … different.”

“I know. I will drive you to the porch, and when I stop, you may get down. Safely.”

“Yes, Jacob.”

“Thank you for thinking of Emma before yourself. ‘Twas not selfish. I know. But if you do not take proper care of yourself, I will have to see that you do. We’ve another babe to consider now, along with the two of them.”

Jacob would love this child as much as he loved Emma and Aaron, no matter the father, which made Rachel realize that he must have been driven by deep pain to commit such transgressions.

“Whoa, Caliope. Shh. Whoa.” Caliope slowed and raised his head, once, twice, before he settled to a stop.

Jacob came around to help her. “You may get down now.”

“It is not your fault their mother died,” Rachel said, as he swung her down. “She forgives you. I do too.”

Jacob nodded once and turned to hide the sheen that had come to his eyes.

Up close, the red of Emma’s cheeks were as frightening as her sobs. She raised her arms to Rachel, but once in her arms, she was restless and uncomfortable. After Jacob hitched Caliope and came up the steps, she wanted Pa-pop. No sooner did she settle with him, than she wanted Momly again.

Fannie was beside-herself upset. “She has been like this all morning. Nothing I gave her helped. She vomited everything, even clover-honey water.”

Rachel fought the squirming girl to press her lips to Emma’s small forehead to test its temperature. “She has fever.”

Jacob lifted Aaron when Rachel took Emma back again.

“Emma sick,” he said, in a worried tone.

“We’ll make her better, son.”

“Let’s take her home where I can brew a tea for her,” Rachel said. “You did good, Fannie.”

She had Emma in the buggy, before Jacob left the porch.

“Thank you, Fan,” Jacob said. “Emma will be fine. Better they stayed with you.”

“Is Rachel all right? Will she keep her newspaper?”

“Rachel will be fine. We do not know yet about the newspaper. Right now, it is Emma we must worry about.”

An hour later, Emma’s fever had climbed higher, but Emma, to Rachel and Jacob’s concern, became more quiet.

When Rachel went down to make sweetened oatmeal water and consult her grandmother Sarah’s book of remedies, her father and Simon came into the kitchen.

“Rachel, can we talk?” her father asked.

“I don’t have time, Pop, Emma is sick.”

Aaron came down the stairs. “Momly, Emma sick. Emma cry.” He pushed his face into her skirt. Emma’s crying was distressing them all.