Year of Jubilee (6 page)

She could hear Esther’s melodic voice
approaching and wished she were at home where she’d spring up and
run for the woods. Instead, strong arms gathered her, and suddenly
she floated.

“Please, no.”

“Oh, dear, oh dear, the poor thing. Let’s
get her into the house.” Esther’s voice appeared much closer.

Someone pressed a handkerchief into her
hand. Jubilee buried her face in the strong column of Rafe’s neck.
Before she protested, her new husband answered.

“I think it’s best if I took her home.”

The floating continued and Jubilee clenched
her eyelids closed.

“You’re more than welcome to spend a few
nights with us until she’s up and ready.” Esther spoke again.

Jubilee grabbed tightly onto Rafe’s collar.
He cleared his throat and stretched his neck. She let go of his
shirt.

“No, she’ll be much more comfortable at
home.”

He placed her in the back of the wagon, and
Esther brought a quilt to cover her. She buried her head under the
blanket and let the tears squeeze through her lashes. In the
background, she heard Rafe thanking the couple, then the wagon
began to move. She was married again. Married to another stranger.
She stuffed the edge of the quilt in her mouth to stifle the
sobs.

* * *

Rafe mentally wrestled with himself all the
way home. He hated that she was sick and knew the stress of
marrying him had brought the illness on. Yet, if he hadn’t married
her, she’d be homeless. But she’d be free. If only she hadn’t
appeared all dolled up. He didn’t like her being so…attractive. It
was much easier dealing with a homeless young orphan.

How did a dress and a few hairpins make such
a difference? He squelched the emotion down. Didn’t matter. Didn’t
matter a hill of beans. He was here to make this farm become
successful and, by dog, he would. No brown-eyed
doe-child-turned-woman would waylay him in the process. And what
was his problem anyway? So she was pretty. So what? His heart still
bore open sores from the agony Rosemary had inflicted.

No, this arrangement was for the best. In
the long run, Jubilee would have a home, and she’d be a good
housekeeper, laundress, and gardener. Yes, this was for the best.
She was just his…employee, that was all. He had to keep that in
mind. She’d recover, and would realize all of this was for the
best. He’d just about convinced himself of this when she snuffled.
She was crying under that quilt. He frowned and grunted.

He was definitely a mean, low-down sack of
bones, that’s what he was. He gave a heavy sigh and shook his head.
It’d take a miracle to right this situation, and Rafe wasn’t sure
he believed in them anymore.

Despite Rafe’s misgivings, life fell into a
pattern on the farm with Jubilee. He saw little of her during the
first few weeks, as if she were hiding out. He had no doubt she
was, but he found plenty to keep himself busy. He’d stored the food
items for Jubilee in the cabin, noting her distance with some
amusement as he carried in the huge bags.

His first project was repairing the hole in
the roof. Then he finished reconstructing the entire front porch.
Happy with the outcome, he decided the time had been well spent.
Still, he knew he had to get at the fields. The new pair of oxen
he’d invested in would be a great improvement over Jubilee’s
one-man shoveling team.

Rafe rounded the house with his axe,
intending to cut more firewood before harnessing the oxen to the
plow. When his eyes fell to the woodpile, he stopped short. The
height remained nearly the same as last week. Did the woman use any
fuel? The back door swung open and Jubilee gave a start, her eyes
huge.

“Mornin’.” He dipped his head in greeting,
wondering at the same time if she would ever meet him without
fear.

She bit her lip as she eyed the axe.
“Morning.”

He motioned to the stack. “I thought you’d
near be out at this point. How come you have so much wood
left?”

He set his hand high against the cabin and
leaned against the wall. She closed the door a little more, and
Rafe realized he’d been a bit abrupt. He’d have to tone it down to
gain her trust. His eyes shifted down, but she hid behind the door.
He knew her well enough now to imagine one of her fingers spinning
a nervous circle in her skirt fabric. He shifted his gaze to her
face, knowing she watched every move he made. She gave that thin,
one-shouldered shrug.

“I don’t know. Preparing a meal doesn’t
require much of a fire.” Again the shrug.

She only used fuel to cook? He cocked his
head. “You ain’t been keeping a fire?”

He took a step towards her. Her eyes
widened, and she shook her head like a child in trouble. Rafe
grunted and pulled the axe from his shoulder to let it swing to his
side, his hand wrapped around the wooden handle. Jubilee closed the
door a bit more.

Rafe scratched his neck. “Listen, Jubilee. I
want you to burn wood anytime you’re cold. Don’t suffer through
this chilly weather when you’ve got plenty of fuel out here. I
don’t mind keeping you supplied, you understand?”

Her head bobbed up and down.

He took a deep breath. This trust thing
would develop, or at least he hoped so. Just blamed frustrating for
her to fear him so much. He stuck his free hand into his
pocket.

“All right. After breakfast, I’m off to plow
the west field. On Saturday, I’d like to set out the seed in the
garden, and I’d appreciate you being there to see where everything
is planted. The weeding and harvesting will be part of your
chores.”

“It’s not a problem.”

He nodded and started on his way to the barn
when she called to him. He stopped and watched her disappear into
the cabin, then return carrying a colorful quilt. She approached
and handed it to him. “What’s this?”

She stepped back before she replied. “For
you. The barn must get cold, too.”

He looked down at the quilt. The simple
design in rust, dark green, and mustard squares appeared well-made
and heavy. The thickness would definitely stave off the chilly
temperatures. He smiled and nodded.

“Thank ya much,” he said, not sure what else
to say.

She turned and withdrew into the cabin.

* * *

Jubilee barred the door, rested her back
against the rough wood, and chewed her lip while working her skirt
fabric in a circle. Her brow puckered in thought. Use the wood?
Just for a little heat? She rubbed her free hand across her face.
The weather hadn’t even been below freezing the last week and a
half. Colvin would’ve slapped her silly for wasting fuel in such a
way. At the Orphan Society, they often slept five to six in a bed
to ward off the cold.

Besides, she had the new cape Rafe had
bought her, the wool blanket he insisted on getting, and the dress
Esther had given her. This was the warmest she’d been in years, yet
keeping a fire banked throughout the day would be rather nice. A
luxury even.

Jubilee collected her thoughts and headed
straight for the food stores. There was breakfast to fix, and a
fire to build as well as tend. Never one to stall, she set to work.
As difficult as the decision to marry Rafe had been, things had
smoothed out. He’d patched the hole in the roof, the porch was
redone, the garden tilled, and the pantry contained plenty of
food.

Her thin frame had a pinch of health back,
with energy to boot. Now, apparently, there was also plenty of wood
to burn. She had a couple of dresses, a cape, a blanket, and plenty
of cloth to make several more quilts and shirts for Rafe. Really,
she felt almost rich. So why did she harbor such a fear of the
man?

Jubilee arranged the bacon on Rafe’s plate
beside the scrambled eggs and fresh bread smeared generously with
creamy butter. She put on her cape and took the cheesecloth-covered
platter to the barn. He’d be harnessing the oxen in readiness for
plowing. Stopping at the newly constructed cold box on the porch,
she retrieved the milk bucket and headed across the new grass.

It seemed silly the man had to take his
meals in the barn. He owned the place after all. A man should be
able to eat at his table, same as she did. Her steps slowed. He
really ought to dine in the cabin. If Jubilee’s hand had been free,
it would’ve clutched at her skirt seam. Instead, she came to a
halt. Rafe
should
eat in the house. At his table. That meant
she’d have to share or take her meals elsewhere.

Her face scrunched in thought. Sharing the
cabin would be the decent thing. She let out a loud sigh. Time to
get past this fear. She’d tell him he was welcome to take his meals
at the cabin.

She set the pail of milk down and opened the
heavy door. The barn’s size resembled a mansion. Since the hour was
early, the inside appeared still and shadowy. The rustling above
made her wonder if he gathered hay in the loft. Like an answer from
on high, a large wad of straw fell to the middle of the floor.

“Hello?” she called and heard a muffled
response.

She went to the rough-cut bench, the same
one she’d sat upon the first night Jubilee had met him, and set the
platter and pail down. He suddenly appeared at the top of the
ladder with a lantern, which gave a soft glow that brightened as he
climbed down. He nodded his head at her and made for the bench. She
stepped back but did not leave as customary. After hanging the
lantern, he pulled a bucket from a peg and washed his hands, drying
them on the towel from atop the plate. He paused and looked at
her.

“You needin’ something?” Like the barn, his
voice was quiet.

Jubilee swallowed around the knot in her
throat.

“Yes,” she began, her fingers fixed in the
seam of her skirt. “I think it’d be more proper for you to eat at
the table. In the cabin.”

He rubbed his hand down his chin, and
Jubilee could hear the rasp of whiskers.

“What’s brought this on?”

She shrugged one shoulder.

“More proper, huh? You know, there’s not too
many folks watchin’ us eat our meals that I’m aware of. I’m all
right here.”

Jubilee stared at the plate to avoid his
eyes. Heat spread up her neck.

“Well, I suppose I didn’t really mean
proper. Maybe I meant more comfortable.” Checking his reaction, she
caught his crooked grin.

“More comfortable for me, or for you?”

She cleared her throat, hoping the shadows
of the barn hid her hot cheeks.
How do I answer that?
Her
hands clasped behind her. She refused to shrug again. “Well, I
wouldn’t have to carry all this out here and back inside. If you
wanted seconds, I’d be right there, and you could sit down at a
table and…”

He grinned again. “Fine. As long as this
arrangement suits you, it suits me. But I won’t be in tonight. I’ll
be plowing ’til dark-thirty.”

Jubilee swung around and all but flew to the
cabin. Glory be, she hoped she didn’t regret doing that.

* * *

That night, Rafe settled in on the small cot
and arranged the new quilt over his body to suit him. He couldn’t
help but smile as the smell of fresh hay surrounded him. The
blanket warmed him, and he admired the muted colors, which
satisfied a masculine taste. No, what made him grin was her
nervousness at asking him to take his meals inside the cabin. That
oughta be a hoot. She’d probably sit across the room, right next to
the back door, with her breakfast balanced on her lap. If he even
spoke, her plate might tumble to the floor. He grunted, yet the
smile slid from his face. The image was humorous, but the reasons
behind her fear were definitely not. Perhaps sharing a meal would
take the fear from her eyes.

He couldn’t complain. The food was good and
filling. And, even though she was hardly bigger than a bird, she
didn’t shy away from hard work. This quilt was proof of that. He
stretched his arms out and laid his hands behind his head, elbows
out.

Yep, things were coming around. Most of the
fields he’d planned on planting this year were plowed. He’d fixed
the fences, hacked down weeds surrounding the cabin, fixed the roof
and replaced the porch. The garden was ready to plant, the new cow
would soon drop her calf, and the old one was healthy enough for
breeding again. After planting the garden and the fields, he’d
start digging up the rest of the stumps from the front yard.

Thoughts of his family crept in to dampen
his spirits. He’d sent off a letter to let them know of his
marriage. He’d kept the note short and sweet. There really wasn’t
much to say. His younger sister, Sarah, would be heartbroken to
learn of his unexpected wedding. He sighed. This certainly wasn’t
what he would’ve chosen.

Rosemary’s face crossed his mind. He shook
his head to deny a stab of pain. His pride still stung to think of
her sneaking off and marrying Dale. If it’d have been anyone but
his best friend, it wouldn’t be quite so hard to take. He groaned
and pushed away the disturbing thoughts.

What did it matter anyway? He’d married
Jubilee, and as far as folks knew, this was a normal marriage. His
family would support him, and soon everyone in his hometown would
receive the news. The distance might aid in appearing as a regular
married couple. He and Jubilee, just an average man and wife.

Suddenly he grinned in the darkness. He at
the table, and Jubilee sitting primly at the back door with her
plate in her lap.

Jubilee scurried around, flour flying into
the air. What was wrong with her? Her usual morning routine seemed
shot to pot. Now the biscuits were burnt. She huffed. Too late to
fix another batch since Rafe’s heavy boots sounded on the new porch
floor. She scooped the eggs and bacon to the plate, almost throwing
the biscuit basket on the table when she heard a small knock on the
door.

“Come in.” She had to utter it twice to be
heard, then caught her breath as his huge form filled the
doorway.