Forevermore

by Cathy Marie Hake

Jakob remained standing. He raised his arm high, and silence fell. “I want to thank you all for your hard work. Among God’s blessings to me, I count my friends and neighbors.” He prayed.

  As soon as he finished, Hope called out, “Eat up! The women have been a-cookin’ plenty!”

  Reasoning it was better for him to sit near Volkner than to have him elsewhere and overhear something he oughtn’t, Jakob elbowed in. Eating was serious business. The men didn’t say much more than grunting for more potatoes or complimenting Hope on the chicken.

  “I still haven’t seen your sister,” Leopold said between bites.

  “No doubt she’s at the stove.”

  Hope slid another basket of rolls on the table, then straightened up and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Annie! Annie— stick your head out the window and say howdy.”

  Admiration streaked through Jakob. Clever as could be, Hope devised a way to satisfy Leopold’s interest in Annie’s welfare without revealing her secret. The sensitivity that led Hope to suspect Annie’s problem now gifted her with the ability to creatively handle the situation. He looked at the window, hoping his sister would comply.

  Sure enough, Annie appeared in the window. Leaning forward as she did, her apron fell away from her body, effectively hiding the baby. She smiled and waved.

  “Ain’t that just like our Annie?” Hope dusted off her hands. “Me out here a-hollerin’ like a fool and her bein’ ladylike. The Good Book says the trumpet’s gonna sound when the Lord Jesus comes back, and I can’t help thinkin’ ’tis on account of bellowin’ folks like me. God’s gotta do something mighty loud to be heard over us.” She flashed a smile. “Reckon I’d best better make sure all the desserts come out. The neighbor ladies brung so many fine things, makes me think how lucky cows are.”

  “How can you say a cow is lucky,” Leopold asked, “when we are eating roast beef?”

  Hope flashed a sassy grin. “A cow don’t care none that he gave his all for the meal—he can’t, bein’ as he’s dead. But all them days and months he was alive—he got hisself four stomachs. Four! Just think on how much food he got to savor.”

  As she bustled off, Leopold grabbed another piece of chicken. “That woman—she’s spirited.”

  Jakob robbed him of the chicken thigh and bit into it as he nodded. “Great cook, too.”

  “Your sister—”

  “Look there,” Jakob interrupted. “See that girl? The one carrying the pie? And the one just coming down the porch steps with a cake? They’re two of Richardson’s daughters. I’ve heard they bake good.”

  “Is that so?” Leopold’s eyes narrowed. “The second one— she’s pretty.”

  Jakob shrugged. He’d spent his time avoiding the Richardson girls.

  “Has she dedicated her heart to the Lord?”

  His brows furrowed, Jakob asked slowly, “What does it matter to you?”

  “It matters.”

  “I recall her going to the altar and being baptized.”

  Leopold elbowed him. “Introduce me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Outrage vibrated in Volkner’s hot whisper.

  Shrugging again, Jakob confessed, “I never bothered to figure out which sister is which.”

  After letting out a disgusted sound, Volkner wiped his mouth. He motioned toward the Richardson girl. Her eyes widened, and for an instant her jaw dropped, but she quickly shut her mouth and came over. Leopold made a show of studying the cake, then smiled up at her. “Did you bake this yourself?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “What kind is it?”

  “Prune cake.”

  Leopold elbowed Jakob again. “Prune cake! Did you hear her? My favorite!”

  The Richardson girl blushed and said in a soft tone, “Then you should have the biggest slice.”

  Jakob could scarcely believe it. He’d heard Tim Creighton’s wife was teaching the Richardson hoydens civilized ways; he’d chalked it up to idle gossip. It would take far more than months of the proper English lady’s training to tame Richardson’s daughters—or so he’d thought.

  “Marcella, I’ll take a slice, too.” Mr. Patterson motioned to her.

  “Marcella.” Leopold grinned like a love-struck fool. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

  Her face clouded up, just like Emmy-Lou’s did right before . . . Jakob muffled a groan.

  Richardson’s daughter bit her lip and thrust the cake plate into Leopold’s direction. His hands closed around it, but as a sob shook her, Volkner shoved aside the cake and reached for her instead.

  Marcella evaded him, wheeled around, and dashed back toward the house.

  “Wait!” Leopold jumped up and headed after her.

  For an instant, Jakob discounted it as utter silliness—until he realized Marcella had gone into the kitchen. If Leopold followed her—“Volkner!” Leopold ignored him.

  Jakob raced toward the back porch. Mr. Richardson matched him stride for stride. “What did he do to my girl?”

  “He called her pretty.”

  Richardson stopped dead in his tracks.

  Twelve

  Oh, mercy.” Hope yanked Annie to the table and shoved her into a chair. Thumping a bowl of snap beans in front of her, she hissed, “Trouble’s a-comin’. Tug the tablecloth over yourself and stay put.”

  A second later, Marcella burst in and let out a loud cry.

  “Whatever is the matter?” Sydney Creighton embraced Marcella.

  Jakob’s old neighbor stormed in. “Where—” He spotted Marcella and shouldered past Mrs. Richardson.

  Unaware she’d been followed, Marcella wailed into Sydney’s shoulder, “He made fun of me.”

  The man roared, “I did not!”

  His brow furrowed with worry, Jakob stomped in. Hope stood in such a way as to block Volkner’s view of Annie. Jakob scanned the room, and though the tension in his broad shoulders remained, the set of his jaw changed once he saw how Hope shielded Annie. Ice blue eyes met hers, and in that instant, Hope inclined her head ever so slightly. From the rise and fall of his chest as he took and released a large, silent breath, Hope knew the truth: They’d made a pact, and he trusted her.

  Sydney held Marcella and patted her as Jakob crossed the kitchen.

  Hope cleared her throat loudly. “How’s about all of you gals totin’ out the rest of the sweets?”

  “But my sister . . . ” Linette began.

  “She can stay. You go on and help out.” Hope pushed the closest dish into Linette’s hands.

  “Pickles? Those aren’t sweets.”

  “Shore are.” Hope nodded, as if to lend gravity to her assertion. “Them are sweet pickles. Out you go now.”

  Though many of the women clearly wanted to stay and watch, Gramma clapped her hands. “You all heard Hope. She’s right. We got hungry men to feed.”

  Hope waved her hand toward Annie. “You stay put. Marcella oughtta have us here. It’s only proper.”

  Mrs. Richardson scowled at Volkner. “This isn’t my house, but that’s my daughter, and I’m not leaving. What did you do to her?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it to stand up like a startled jaybird’s crest. “You are her mother.” He nodded. “Ja. I can tell.”

  “Work’s waiting.” Jakob folded his arms across his chest.

  It didn’t escape Hope’s notice that he, too, positioned himself between Volkner and Annie.

  Mr. Richardson came to the door. “Mama, come on out here.”

  “But, Jeb—”

  “He called our Marcella pretty.” Mr. Richardson motioned to her.

  Sydney Creighton whispered something to Marcella, then wiggled free of her hold. “Hope, shall I take out this bowl?”

  “Thankee.” Hope didn’t mention that the bowl was empty. Neither did Sydney. Those fancy English lady manners of hers came in handy.

  Marcella hadn’t turned to face anyone. Burying her face in her hands, she wept.

  Utterly perplexed, Volkn
er tentatively rested his hands on Marcella’s shuddering shoulders and turned her around. “I meant what I said. Prune cake is my favorite.”

  Hope burst out laughing. Everyone glared at her. “Y’all are more mixed up than flapjack batter. Volkner, she don’t care what you think of prune cake.”

  “I do like it. And Jakob says she’s a good cook.”

  Giving up on Volkner, Hope turned to Jakob. “Did I hear right? He called Marcella purdy?”

  “I did. I still do.” Volkner cast a quick grin at Mrs. Richardson, then nodded at Mr. Richardson. “Your daughter—she takes after her mama.”

  “I’m fat!” The words tore through Marcella.

  “Fat?” Volkner repeated in shock. “Nein. You are healthy.” His gaze swept down her just fast enough to assure everyone he liked what he saw, but not long enough to be rude. His hands stayed on her shoulders, and he jostled her just once to emphasize his assertion. “Sturdy.”

  “Sturdy.” The word whooshed out of Marcella—half moan, half sob.

  “Ja.” Volkner bobbed his head and looked downright proud.

  The man’s got wheat chaff for brains if he reckons sayin’ such a thing will win him a gal’s undying love. May as well step up and help him out. “What Mr. Volkner means,” Hope moved next to him, “is that he’s a man who likes his girl to look womanly. ’Stead of a beanpole or one of them cinched-in-to-silliness gals, he appreciates a woman who won’t break when he gives her a hug. Ain’t that right?” Hope nudged his foot.

  Leopold barely spared her an exasperated look, then went back to staring at Marcella. “That’s what I said. Sturdy.”

  The oaf. “Can’t blame a man for wantin’ to hug a young lady he finds pretty.” Hope nudged Volkner’s boot again.

  Marcella sniffled.

  Volkner didn’t say a thing.

  Her toes already hurt, but Hope reckoned she had two good reasons to suffer a little discomfort. If she could keep Leopold Volkner busy, he’d ignore Annie; and if she could prod some sense into him, he and Marcella just might get along. Thump.

  “Ouch.” Volkner turned sharply and glared. “Why are you kicking me?”

  “Hope wouldn’t ever hurt anyone.” Annie sucked in a deep breath. “Maybe there’s a little flour on the floor and it’s slippery.”

  “No doubt there’s that. I’ll sweep the floor right quick, if ’n y’all shoo on outta here. Marcella, you mop up them tears and give this here buck a nice smile. Ain’t every day a handsome stranger happens along and chases after a gal what caught his eye.”

  Jakob said something in German to his friend.

  Volkner nodded and wheeled around. “So you are Mr. Richardson. Jakob reminded me I should speak first with you.” Volkner took a deep breath. “Herr Richardson, your daughter— she is comely.” He slapped Jakob on the back. “My friend—his name should be mine today, for like Jacob in the Bible, I have set my gaze upon the woman I will love. I tell you now: I want your daughter for my wife.”

  Marcella let out a small squeak.

  Mr. Richardson reached over and threaded his hand through his wife’s arm. “See what I told you? Marcella favors you. It’s no wonder this man wants her.”

  “Oh, Jeb.” Mrs. Richardson leaned into her husband’s side.

  Jakob folded his arms across his chest. Hope watched how he continued to shield his sister. “Richardson, Volkner is a good man.”

  “You’re his friend—that tells me some of what I need to know.” Mr. Richardson squinted at Volkner. “But I won’t let a man near any of my daughters if he won’t love her with all his heart ’til his dying day. You know nothing of Marcella other than that she’s pretty.”

  “She’s not vain and she has a tender heart.” Volkner’s voice managed to sound both gruff and kind. “And she has family and friends who love her. Most of all, Jakob tells me Marcella is a believer. That tells me all I need to know—well, almost all I need to know.”

  He turned to Marcella. “You should know of me. The most important thing is Jesus in my life. Greenbugs ruined my sorghum crops, so this year, I’ve hired myself out in order to provide for my mother and sister. I cannot offer much to you of worldly things, but I would give you my heart. Now that you know these things, I ask: If your father gives his consent, would you consider my hand in marriage?”

  “I . . .I . . .um . . .” Marcella turned the same shade as freshly canned beets and blurted out, “I don’t know your name!”

  Male laughter filled the kitchen.

  “Honest to Pete!” Hope burst out.

  “Peter?” Marcella flickering a smile at Volkner and jerked her head up and down. “I’m honored.”

  Annie started crying—hushed, deep sounds.

  Anguish tightened Jakob’s features.

  Hope gave him a playful shove and immediately plopped down next to Annie—effectively blocking all but Annie’s shoulders and head from view. “Honey, you done got your brother all horrified. Men don’t tolerate tears none too good. He don’t know they’re happy tears on account of you bein’ touched that Volkner’s being all romantic-like with your friend Marcella.”

  Laughter boomed out of Mr. Richardson. “Mama’s boohooing, too.”

  “I reckon you men oughtta skedaddle before we all drown in here.” Hope waggled her finger at Marcella. “Best you take your beau by the hand and see if there’s any of that prune cake left out there.”

  “Ja!” Volkner grabbed Marcella’s hand and the new couple dashed past. Marcella’s parents followed behind them.

  Hope wrapped her arm around Annie and passed her a hanky.

  Jakob shifted his weight from one boot to the other. “Is there something I should do?”

  Hope nodded. “Better get on out there and take care of things. That gal don’t even know her intended’s name!”

  Knowing the women would flood back any minute, Hope gave Annie a tight squeeze and whispered, “God’s watchin’ out for you. I’m a-tellin’ you, He is.”

  “What will I do if Leopold finds out about the baby? He’ll tell Konrad.”

  “We’re gonna trust God. That’s what we’re gonna do.”

  Annie bit her lip and swiped at her tears. After cramming the hanky into her pocket, she started snapping beans again.

  “I’ll try.”

  “Locust.” Velma’s raised voice gave warning. “I declare, those men descend like a swarm of locust and eat everything in sight.”

  “You’re right,” someone else agreed. The screen door opened, and a tide of women washed in, all carrying empty bowls, cups, and plates. Older children bore buckets of silverware and small stacks of plates.

  “Gramma,” Hope said, “what say you wrangle all these kids outside again? Them strong boys can tote out a few clean washtubs and put ’em on the benches, and the big girls can wash up the plates and forks and such.”

  “And the younger ones can set the table so they can eat.” Gramma started motioning the kids toward the door.

  “Thankee! Us women’ll see to the rest. Powerful hungry as we are, that’ll let us eat right quick.”

  Sydney whisked the bowl of snap beans from Annie. “I’m so glad you prepared more! Wouldn’t you just know the men ate every last bean, and they’re my favorite?”

  The women chattered as they gathered whatever food was left into some of the bowls while washing the rest of the platters and bowls. Finally they sat on the porch to eat while the children ate at the tables in the yard. As they finished up, Sydney Creighton said, “Tim bought me the most wonderful invention. It’s a sewing machine! It’s far too heavy to cart anywhere, but Velma and I came up with a plan.”

  Marcella sighed dreamily. “I’ll do whatever you want. I owe you dearly for all those courtin’ lessons you gave me. Peter loves me.”

  Hope and Annie traded a glance.

  “He couldn’t help himself.” Sydney smoothed her skirts. “Anyways, back to my plan. Having the older children here for harvest is a help—but the wee tots, well, that’s not q
uite so easy. Our ranch is central to most of the farms. Velma and I decided to ask Annie and Daisy to come there each day for the next week and a half. The rest of you—you’re welcome to drop off your busy little babies and we’ll mind them whilst you go help feed the men wherever they’re harvesting.”

  Everything went quiet for a moment.

  Lord, you done it. You gave Annie a safe place to be. Thankee. Hope glanced at Annie. Nervous as always, Annie cast doubtful looks around the porch. Though it wasn’t her place to speak, Hope figured her place as an outsider was nothing compared to Annie’s need. “Annie, don’t that sound wondrous fine? Gentle and lovin’ as you are, them babies are gonna be happy as lambs.”

  “Hmmm.” Gramma tapped her foot. “I recollect we sometimes did that when I was young. Mamas whose babies were suckling took on the smallest ones. If we do that, I’d still like to mind the older children at whichever farm we’re at. It’s important for them to help out with chores wherever they go.”

  Hope rubbed her hands together. “Grand! Annie, you can tuck yourself away on Forsaken Ranch, and I’ll go represent the Stauffer farm whilst the other places harvest.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Mind? I reckon I probably skipped holdin’ a rattle and went straight for a skillet.”

  Velma set down a chicken bone. “Hope’s cooking is every bit as tasty as my own. She’ll fill in for you nicely, Annie, and I’m glad to have you and Daisy away from the heat.”

  Daisy chewed on her lip. “I’ll do it the rest of the time, but when the harvest is at my farm—”

  “Daisy,” Linda scolded in a loving tone, “of course you can stay there, but your baby’s only two months old. None of us expects you to run all over and stand at the stove! The rocking chair is where you belong.”

  While the women murmured agreement, Hope leaned toward Annie. “You got the nicest neighbors I ever seen. Maybe them aren’t really wheat fields out yonder. Maybe they’re really streets of gold, ’cuz I can picture God a-walkin’ up and bein’ in our midst here.”

  “So you all agree to my plan?” Sydney beamed.

  “Do you realize how many babies you’re taking on?” Mrs. Richardson cast a meaningful look toward the house. “There must be a dozen of them sleeping in the parlor right now.”