Tomorrow's Garden (32 page)

Lawrence shook his head as he entered the house. “It’s your brother.” He closed the door and stood in the hallway, his eyes dark with pain. “Jake’s in jail.”

“Nonsense. Jake’s upstairs asleep.”

“I’m afraid not.” Lawrence extended his hand as if he wanted to touch her, then withdrew it. “Jake snuck out without your knowing it. There’s no easy way to tell you this, Harriet. Your brother destroyed everything in Karl Friedrich’s barn. It’s at least a hundred dollars of damage.”

As her legs threatened to buckle, Harriet leaned back against the wall, trying to understand what Lawrence was saying. The words made sense, and yet she couldn’t believe them. “It can’t be true.” But Lawrence’s presence said it was. “I thought Jake was past that sort of behavior.”

“So did I, yet the fact remains that he did it. He didn’t even show any remorse.”

Harriet closed her eyes, wishing this were a nightmare but knowing it wasn’t. No matter how much she wanted to pretend otherwise, Lawrence was standing in her house, telling her things she didn’t want to hear. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.” They could move again, though Harriet wasn’t certain that would accomplish anything. She had believed that taking Jake away from Fortune and Chet’s influence would solve the problem. Obviously it had not. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Lawrence shook his head slowly. “There’s nothing for you to do. Jake has to face the consequences of breaking the law. He’s in jail, and he’s going to remain there for a good long time.”

As Lawrence’s words registered, Harriet gripped the door frame to keep her legs from collapsing. This was worse than Fortune. There she had had to deal with rumor, but now Jake was in jail like a common criminal. There had been no lasting consequences when Jake had destroyed Karl’s buggy, but this was different. She doubted the townspeople would be as forgiving, when it was clear that Jake had not reformed. “You don’t mean that.” To her chagrin, Harriet’s voice sounded like a croak.

“I most certainly do.”

Fear swirled through her at the thought of her brother incarcerated and all that would mean. Unlike Fortune, where the Kirk name served as some protection, the family would be exposed to outright ridicule here. Given the severity of the crime, the townspeople might even decide Harriet was unfit to teach their children. Her contract stipulated that she must conduct herself with dignity and propriety at all times. Some towns, she knew, extended that condition to the teacher’s entire family.

Harriet bit her lip, trying not to cry out. “Everyone in town will know. We’ll never live it down.” She looked up at Lawrence, remembering the warmth she had seen in his eyes, the concern she had heard in his voice. He cared for her; surely he did, and surely he would listen to her now. “Please, Lawrence, don’t leave him there.”

A flicker of something—could it be remorse?—appeared in his eyes, but Lawrence shook his head. “Whether I jail Jake or not, everyone will know, just as they know what he did to Karl’s buggy. This is worse. You don’t think Karl will remain silent, do you?”

Recalling Karl’s temper and his demands for a severe punishment when Jake destroyed the buggy seats, Harriet started to shake her head, but then she remembered the past few days. “He might, if . . .” She let her words trail off. There was no point in voicing them, not unless she had to. Perhaps Lawrence would reconsider. Perhaps he would realize that jailing Jake would accomplish nothing and that it might hurt the family she had struggled to keep together.

“If what? If you promised to marry Karl?” Lawrence’s lip curled in obvious distaste. “I know you love your family, but that’s going too far. Jake needs to learn a lesson.”

“I wasn’t planning to marry Karl, only to ask him—as a friend—to spare us all. Public humiliation is not the answer.”

“And covering it up will only encourage Jake’s behavior. He has to be punished.”

“But not in jail. That won’t solve anything.”

“Then you tell me what will. Nothing else seems to be working.”

Harriet sensed Lawrence’s frustration and suspected it was as great—perhaps greater—than hers. He had been the one who’d tried to help Jake by giving him constructive work to do. Lawrence had been reasonable then. Perhaps he would be reasonable now.

“You don’t understand. If Jake remains in jail, you’ll be punishing all of us. Is that what you intend—for us to be pariahs?”

Lawrence’s lips thinned with anger. “Of course not. You’re the one who doesn’t understand. You won’t be shunned because of what Jake has done.”

“How do you know? You’ve never been in this situation.” She saw his back stiffen and his lips tighten. In that moment, though they bore no other physical resemblance, he reminded Harriet of Thomas the day she had refused his proposal of marriage. “I thought you were different, but I should have realized you were like the others. You’ve distanced yourself from your family for so long that you don’t know what it’s like to love someone. You’re heartless, Lawrence Wood. All you care about is the law, not people.”

He recoiled as if she’d slapped him, and she saw his mouth move as if he were biting back an angry retort. When he spoke, Lawrence’s voice was calm but cold. “Believe what you want. The truth is, you’re so intent on controlling everything that you haven’t admitted you might not always be right.”

Harriet felt the blood drain from her face. “There was no call for that.”

“Yes, there was. You need to realize that you can’t do everything yourself. I thought you learned that when the school burned, but it seems that I was wrong.” Lawrence’s eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and sorrow. “I hate to say it, Harriet, but it looks as if you’re like Jake, and you just don’t learn. That won’t continue forever. Eventually you’re going to be forced to admit that you don’t have all the answers and that you need to rely on someone else.”

He was like every man she’d met, turning the tables, trying to blame her for what was wrong. Harriet tipped her head up and glared at Lawrence. “If I did rely on someone else, it would most definitely not be you.” She shot the words back at him, then turned toward the door. “If you’re willing to destroy my family by keeping Jake in jail, then you’re not the person I thought you were. You’re not my friend, and you’re not welcome here.” Harriet opened the door. “Good-bye, Lawrence. I don’t want to see you again.”

23

“Where’s Jake?” Daniel looked around the breakfast table, clearly puzzled by the absence of both his brother and a place setting for him.

This was the question Harriet had dreaded. After Lawrence had left, she had paced the floor, trying to make sense of all that had happened. When she’d failed miserably at that, she had prayed that God would soften Lawrence’s heart, that he’d send Jake home. That, too, had failed. There had been no lightning bolts, no prison doors opened in the middle of the night. Her brother remained in Ladreville’s one cell.

“Jake did something bad, and he’s in jail.” By some miracle, Harriet’s voice did not break as she pronounced the words.

“He’s behind bars?” Daniel appeared more intrigued than surprised.

“Can we go see him?” Like his younger brother, Sam seemed to think this was an adventure. “I never saw anybody in jail.”

“When’s he gonna come home?” It was Mary who asked the practical question.

“I don’t know.” That had been one of the things Harriet had pondered during the sleepless night. “The judge will decide.”

Mary’s face crumpled and tears streamed down her cheeks. “I miss Jake.”

“Eat your eggs, sweetie.” Ruth gave Harriet a look that telegraphed her displeasure at not having been told earlier as she wrapped her arm around Mary’s shoulders. “We’ll visit him after breakfast.”

Half an hour later the family made their way to the big stone building on Hochstrasse that served as the jail as well as Lawrence’s office and home. When they arrived, Harriet insisted that the others remain outside. She wanted a private word with Lawrence and then with Jake. Unfortunately, Ladreville’s sheriff was not there.

“He just left,” Jake said, making Harriet wonder whether Lawrence had seen her approaching and did not want to meet her. So be it. She had told him she didn’t want to see him, and she meant it. But as she had lain awake, Harriet had realized that silence and avoidance might not be the best approach. She should talk to Lawrence again and convince him that he was wrong. But Lawrence, it seemed, did not want to listen to her. She would deal with Jake first.

“Why did you do it?” Harriet tried not to cringe at the sight of her brother behind bars. He looked pitiful this morning, his face and hands unwashed, his hair in dire need of a brush, his clothing wrinkled from being slept in. And then there were the bruises. She could see the impression of a fist on one cheek, and his eye was starting to blacken. Harriet’s sympathy faded when Jake’s expression remained defiant.

“I hate him.” Jake spat the words at her. “He’s a mean man. I don’t want you to marry him.”

He was speaking of Karl. Of course, he was. Jake wasn’t privy to her dreams; he had no reason to consider Lawrence a potential suitor.

“No one has asked me to marry him,” Harriet said shortly.

“But Karl will. I know he will.” Jake pounded the thin bedroll. “I don’t want you to marry a man like him, and I don’t want him to be my father. He’s almost as bad as Thomas.”

Was this the cause of all that destruction? “Jake, I’ve told you before that I’m not planning to marry, and even if I did, my husband would not be your father.”
My husband
. It was the first time she had voiced those words. How strange they sounded.

“But he’d boss us all around. He already does that. He even bosses you, and I hate that.” Jake stood up and clenched the bars. “Promise me you won’t marry him.”

Harriet’s anger at her brother began to recede as she realized that he had been trying to protect her. It was strange to realize that Jake was old enough to think he should take care of her. Perhaps this was Jake’s mistaken idea of what being the man of the family meant. Perhaps Lawrence was right when he’d said that her brother wanted to be accepted as an adult. Lawrence might be right about that, but he was wrong in believing that jailing Jake was the way to change his behavior. Surely he could turn the other cheek once more.

Harriet frowned at Jake. “What you did was wrong. I won’t reward you by making any promises.”

His upper lip quivering, as if he were trying to hold back tears, Jake shouted, “I hate you!”

She had expected that. Harriet reached out to touch his hand, trying not to mind when he snatched his away. “You don’t hate me, Jake. You only think you do.”

Harriet tried not to frown at the raindrops that spotted her spectacles. Though she knew that rain was essential—hadn’t she spent half an hour explaining its benefits to her pupils this afternoon?—she did not enjoy walking in it. Perhaps she should have gone directly home after school, but she wanted to visit Isabelle. An hour with her friend would boost her spirits. Harriet was counting on it.

As she plodded down Hochstrasse toward the miller’s small house, she realized she should have come sooner. The last time she had been here was before “the night,” as Harriet referred to Jake’s imprisonment. The weeks had passed more quickly than she had expected. Although she had not thought it possible, her brother seemed to have settled into life behind bars. There’d been no more talk of hating her and Karl. Instead, seemingly chastened, Jake had told Harriet he knew he’d done wrong and had agreed to apologize to Karl and his parents. Though the scene had been awkward, with Frau Friedrich keeping a tight grip on her son’s arm as if she feared he would try to break into the cell and pummel Jake, Karl had accepted the apology and had resumed his visits to the Kirk house.

He came almost every evening, occasionally bringing his mother. The visits verged on boring, for he spoke of things as mundane as the weather and the crops he planned to plant. The one topic Karl studiously avoided was Jake. That was fine with Harriet. She had no need to relive the embarrassment of seeing her brother in jail, of knowing that the town was talking about him and that several parents had questioned her ability to teach their children. That echo of life in Fortune was painful enough without resurrecting it during Karl’s visits.

Harriet still wasn’t certain why he came so often. Despite Ruth’s comments and Jake’s concerns, she did not believe Karl was courting her. He said nothing that could be construed as personal, but the fact that Karl, who had good reason to shun the Kirk family, did not had not gone unnoticed by the town’s grapevine. It was, Harriet suspected, the primary reason she had not faced more disapproval, and for that reason she did not discourage Karl’s visits.

The biggest surprise was Daniel and Sam. Though their initial reaction had made Harriet fear they would lionize their brother’s exploits, they had not. Instead, when they had realized that Jake could not leave the cell to roll a hoop down the street, that he had no toys to while away the day, and that friends were not permitted to visit, they had both become unusually docile, declaring they would not misbehave, because they feared winding up in jail. If that continued, at least one good thing would have resulted from Jake’s incarceration.

And, Harriet reminded herself, today’s rain meant spring was approaching. Spring had always been her favorite season, a time for delighting in the smell of new grass, the chirps and twitters of baby birds, and the sight of bluebonnets carpeting the countryside. She ought to be happy, and yet she wasn’t. Though she could blame it on Jake, her brother’s absence was not the cause of Harriet’s malaise. As much as it pained her to admit it, the problem was Lawrence. She missed his visits to the schoolhouse, their arguments over books, the quiet comfort of walking down the street, her hand on his arm. She missed him—the old Lawrence. But that Lawrence was gone forever. In his place was the stern stranger who insisted that Jake remain in jail. Now that Harriet no longer had Lawrence’s visits to look forward to, her days felt gray, even when the Texas sky was its normal faultless blue.

Harriet collapsed her umbrella as Isabelle ushered her into the house with a warm smile. This was what she needed, time with her friend.

“I’m glad you came.” As they took seats at the kitchen table, Isabelle laid her hand on her stomach. “It’s difficult for me to get out much. Gunther insists I stay inside when it rains.” She wrinkled her nose. “He’s worried that I’ll slip and fall. And then there are the babies. They seem to take turns sleeping so I can’t ever rest.”

Though the complaints might be valid, Isabelle did not appear to be suffering. “You look wonderful,” Harriet told her. “Your face is glowing, and your eyes—I’ve seen stars that sparkle less.”

“Maybe so, but I’ll be glad when I can hold the little darlings in my arms.” Isabelle poured a cup of coffee for Harriet, her eyes darkening as she handed it to her. “If I’m overstepping, blame it on friendship, but no one would say you were glowing. What’s wrong?”

Harriet debated what to say. She wanted to talk about Lawrence, about the hole their estrangement left in her life, but at the same time she didn’t want anyone to know how foolish she had been, believing that the kind, thoughtful Lawrence was the real one. She settled for saying, “It’s the rain. I never did like rainy days.” That was not a lie. Soggy skirts and boots were no fun, and the mud the younger children invariably dragged into the house only added to her dislike of precipitation.

Isabelle set her cup down and stared at Harriet, her expression filled with skepticism. “I think it’s more than that.”

That was the problem with friends. They saw too much. Harriet wouldn’t mention Lawrence, but she could ask Isabelle about Jake. More than anyone in Ladreville, Isabelle knew what it was like to have a brother in trouble. “I’m concerned about Jake,” Harriet admitted. “You may have heard that the judge is scheduled to be here next week. I suppose you’ll tell me that worrying doesn’t accomplish anything, but I wish I knew what kind of sentence he’ll impose.”

“Isabelle, everything’s fine,” Gunther’s voice boomed as he opened the door. “The dam will hold.” He shook the rain from his clothes, then turned, his face reddening when he saw Harriet.

“
Entschuldigen Sie mich
.” It was a measure of his embarrassment that he had reverted to his native German. “Excuse me, Harriet. I didn’t realize Isabelle had a visitor.”

“My husband worries about everything,” Isabelle said with a fond smile for Gunther. “Every day he worries about me, about our babies. Today he’s added the dam, which is perfectly fine, as are the babies and I.” She shook her finger at Gunther in playful reproof. “I told you there was no cause to worry, didn’t I?”

“You were right,” he admitted. “I just wanted you to know. Now I’ll leave you alone.”

When Gunther returned to the mill, Isabelle smiled. “Even if he does worry, I love him dearly.”

And Gunther loved her. Even a blind man would have known that, simply from the way Gunther’s voice changed when he spoke to or about his wife. It was difficult to believe he’d courted two other women, including Olga Kaltheimer.

“You need to find a man like Gunther,” Isabelle said, placing her hand on her midsection, “someone who will love you, even when you’re as big as the mill.”

As Lawrence’s image flashed before her, Harriet frowned. “I’m more worried about Jake and what the judge will say.”

The twinkle in her eyes said Isabelle recognized Harriet’s deliberate change of subject and was amused by it. “I can’t imagine that the punishment will be serious. Maman heard some of the townspeople say they’d testify on Jake’s behalf.”

What? Harriet swallowed her coffee so quickly that she began to choke. “Truly?” she asked when she could breathe again. She hadn’t been able to ignore the speculative looks she received each time she entered a public building. Church services were the worst. It might have been her imagination, but she felt as if disapproving eyes were boring into her back throughout the sermon.

“Don’t misunderstand.” Isabelle’s brown eyes sobered. “Everyone believes that what Jake did was very wrong, but they think he’s paid for his crime. A month in jail when you’re Jake’s age is an eternity.”

“It feels like that to me too.” Only a month, but it seemed much longer since her life had changed. While it had once been filled with anticipation, now it seemed empty, devoid of Jake and Lawrence.

“It will get better. I know it.” Isabelle reached across the table and laid her hand on Harriet’s, squeezing it slightly.

“I wish I shared your optimism.”