Forevermore

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “I’ll get it.” Phineas rose.

  Hope glanced at Emmy-Lou. “Sugar pie, you can’t hold your dolly at the table. Go put her down someplace.” With Phineas and Emmy-Lou both away from the table, Hope pressed the medical text into Jakob’s hands. “Mr. Stauffer, sir, I’m gonna ask y’all to start readin’ to me tonight. I took a powerful fright today thinkin’ Annie was havin’ the baby. We ought to be grateful the Almighty spared Annie from my bunglin’.”

  “You have my word; I’ll read it to you tonight.”

  “Tomorrow, too?”

  The urgency in her voice touched him. Hope loved his sister and wanted to do the best she could for her. Of all the ways God might work, Hope was the most unlikely way Jakob could imagine—but the very best. And not just for Emmy-Lou and Annie, but for me, too.

  Her hazel eyes didn’t waver, but her voice dropped to a hushed whisper. “Other gals—it wouldn’t be fittin’ for you to read such things to them. But you and me—we got ourselves a pact to do what’s best for Annie.”

  Dear, sweet Hope. She set aside her own embarrassment for Annie’s sake. She was right—the subject matter wasn’t considered decent. Can it be that it’s not just for Annie? Could it be that Hope understands deep down inside that she can trust me?

  Unaware of his thoughts, she continued on, “After taking a gander at that book, I think it’d scare her silly to have to read ’bout what’s to come.”

  Jakob nodded. He’d thought the same thing. “When the time comes, I’ll fetch Velma, but it would be good for you to know what to do, just in case.”

  The darling little curlies surrounding her face all wobbled as she bobbed her head. “I’d best better get all the particulars set in my mind, just in case that pickled finger of fate points at me.”

  Pickled finger. Well, pigs’ feet could be pickled. Hope’s mangled version held a thread of logic. Figuring out how she’d reasoned her way into her crazy clichés was fun.

  Jakob enjoyed supper and waited out on the porch as Hope tucked in his daughter. The open bedroom window allowed him to hear Emmy-Lou’s sweet, high voice as she said her bedtime prayer. Hope insisted on them still praying in German. Fact was, Hope seemed to be picking up more German as the days went by. That first night, she said she hadn’t come to change things— but she’d been wrong. She’d taken his battered family under her wing and given them the healing shelter of her love.

  “Miss Hope? It’s really dark tonight.”

  “Yup. Shore is. But ’member on what I showed you? Even when you can’t see the stars on my quilt, they’re still there.

  And the moon and stars are still up in the sky. And God is still watchin’ over you.”

  “Even”—Emmy-Lou’s voice went thready—“when it’s dark?”

  “Especially when it’s dark. Didja know, in the Bible it tells us God made the light and the dark? I reckon He wanted it dark part of the time for a reason. I gotta ’nother verse for our Twinkle song. Wanna learn it?”

  Jakob’s heart warmed. As badly as Hope wanted for him to read to her tonight, she didn’t rush his daughter. Her song drifted through the window and down to him.

  “In the dark blue sky you keep,

  And often through my curtains peep,

  For you never shut your eye,

  Till the sun is in the sky . . .”

  “Twinkle, twinkle, little—” Jakob caught himself singing under his breath and grinned. Life had become so sweet again. He sat on one of the porch seats, but something crackled softly in his pocket. The letter. He leaned forward, pulled it out, and opened it.

  Twelve dollars a month now. Konrad.

  Jakob’s mouth went dry. The paper crumpled as his hand clenched into a fist. Twelve. It might as well have been twelve thousand.

  Twenty

  Konrad’s sweat-soaked shirt stuck to his body and hunger clawed at him. Sweat trickled from his brow and stung his eyes as he plopped down in the dirt and dragged the two pails closer. Not wasting time on the dipper, he took the first and gulped water from the rim. Instead of refreshing, cool well water brought by his wife, he had to settle for what he’d pumped and carried here himself—and the sun had heated it. Every swallow fired his anger.

  The second pail contained the same thing day after day—eggs he’d hard-boiled, stale bread he’d bought in town and rationed out during the week, and jerked beef or fried bacon. Today, he had a runty tomato he’d yanked off one of the scraggly volunteer plants. What in years past had been an impressive garden lay as a weed-choked wasteland next to the house—a testament to a woman’s neglect of her man and his land.

  Starting next week, he’d be going to his neighbors’ to help with reaping. At least then he’d eat decently. Thoughts of crispy-fried chicken, vats of potato salad, and succulent roasted beef flooded his mind. He’d pile his plate high with those and thick slices of fresh-baked bread slathered with just-churned sweet butter. Onion-and-vinegar soaked cucumbers would cool him. So would fat wedges of melon. Then he’d eat his fill of pies.

  But for now, he ate like a pauper.

  Every bite tasted of bitterness. How could a man sit on the edge of his wheat field and be starved for bread? The very staff of life rustled and rippled on all sides, mocking him.

  The sound of a wagon trundling by pulled Konrad from his thoughts. He stood but didn’t bother to dust off the seat of his britches. They hadn’t been washed in . . . well, weeks. No use wasting the effort. Instead, he walked toward the road and doffed his hat to the two women. As always, he used his left hand so the brim would block the sight of his missing fingers.

  “Guten Tag, Frau Volkner. Fraulein Volkner.”

  “Herr Erickson.” Leopold’s mother looked like a fat old crow, sitting on the buckboard bench and tipping her head down at him. Her beaklike nose always made her look as if she smelled something bad, and her daughter inherited the same look.

  It’s probably why no man wants her. But I’m going to need them to cook for me. Pasting on a suave smile, Konrad waited a moment.

  “So what brings you ladies out today?”

  “We went to town. Leopold sent us a letter. My son—he’s always been so good to me.” She didn’t pause to take a breath and continued on as if she’d rehearsed everything she needed to say and was afraid she’d forget something. “Leopold asked for us to tell you he’d be home in time to help with harvest. He’s sent money and says the farmers have all been fair to pay him for his labor.”

  Leopold’s sister folded her hands in her lap like a prim schoolmarm. “Ja, and it is right. As Jesus said in the tenth chapter of Luke, ‘The labourer is worthy of his hire.’ ”

  “Ja.” The old crow continued to bob her head. “And in the same it says that the harvest is great, but the laborers are few. I’m thinking you will need a lot of help here in your fields and maybe in the kitchen, too.”

  Not crow. Buzzard. Sitting there, ready to feast even if it costs me everything. They probably spent the whole way from town to make up this sanctimonious speech. Well, I’ll take their help. After everything is over and they ask for their pay, I’ll pretend it was a misunderstanding. After all, neighbors help one another.

  “I don’t suppose you have a letter for me, too? I hoped my Annie would write and tell me she’s coming home in time for the harvest. She’s been gone so long. I’ve missed her.” Her cooking, her cleaning, her gardening, and having her in my bed.

  “Nein.” Volkner’s sister sighed. “There was no mail for you. I asked, too. They told me you’d just sent a letter last week.”

  Jakob got my letter. He’s delaying. He doesn’t want to give me more money—but he will. And it won’t make a difference, because I’ll still go fetch Annie. Jakob owes me. He owes me for the cost of the expensive food I must buy. He owes me for the comfort I’ve been denied. If he wants to act as if I’m merely a farmhand, he owes me monthly wages. Even so, I still will keep the profit from the crops. He did nothing at all—he deserves nothing in return.


  Unaware of his thoughts, the young woman prattled on. “Maybe it’s too soon for your wife to have replied. Annie’s always been so conscientious. I miss her dreadfully.”

  “Nothing is right with her gone.” He didn’t have to act. Every fiber of his being cried that to be true. “It has been too long. I’d go fetch her now, but I’d be a fool to leave my crop just before the harvest. As soon as the reaping is over, before the threshing, I plan to go get her.”

  “The timing would be good.” Frau Volkner graced him with a sly smile. “At least, it will be good for you as the wheat shocks dry. But you’ll still be in wont of help to feed the men.”

  Why should I only get help when the reapers come? I should make it so I am fed better now. Konrad shrugged and held his arms wide.

  “You think it’s only then that I’m in wont of help? I’ve taken to wearing suspenders because I couldn’t punch any more holes in my belt. Ja, I have lost that much weight.”

  The women made sympathetic sounds, and he knew his calculated comments had hit the mark.

  Twenty-One

  Phineas.” Jakob swallowed his pride as he latched Josephine in her stall. “I got a letter.”

  Phineas straightened up and set aside the milk pail. “From the dark mood you’ve been in the past week, it was from Konrad.”

  “Yes.” Jakob cleared his throat. He’d tried to set aside his worries as they’d completed the threshing. Evidently, he’d not succeeded in hiding his feelings. Had Hope noticed? Had Annie?

  “I told you already, send him what you’d pay me.”

  “He wants more than that. Twelve.” Merely saying the figure aloud made Jakob’s mouth feel dirty. “He wants twelve dollars a month now.”

  Phineas didn’t hesitate for a second. “Annie’s worth it.”

  “My sister is worth a hundred times that, but she’s not a woman to be bought or sold.”

  Phineas shot him an exasperated look. “Of course she isn’t, but Konrad isn’t smart enough to know that. I’ve saved some money. Not much, but you’re welcome to it all.”

  “Nein, Phineas. You’re a good friend to offer, but no matter what I give him, Konrad will always grasp for more. I’ve decided I’ll pretend I didn’t receive his letter. I’ll mail him the same five dollars I’ve been sending.”

  “That could get you through another week or so. Then what?”

  “That’s my hope. By then, it’ll be harvesttime for him. He’ll be honor bound to help his neighbors.” The plan he’d devised went contrary to Jakob’s nature. A man ought to stand and fight for what he believed in and loved. Only in this situation, fighting wouldn’t resolve the problem. He’d battled with himself, examined every possibility, and settled on the only course of action that stood any chance of working. Jakob lifted his chin. “Once Annie has the baby, I plan to send her away. Surely there is somewhere she could be safe.”

  Phineas grimaced. “What about Emmy-Lou?”

  He’d thought it over countless times. There wasn’t anyone else to whom he’d entrust Emmy-Lou. Hope. Hope would take her with them. “Konrad is not to be trusted. I can’t have Hope or Emmy-Lou here. They’ll go with Annie and the baby. I’m asking you to find a place, but don’t tell me where. That way, I won’t be lying when I say I don’t know where Annie is.”

  “How long do you expect that to work?”

  Jakob inhaled deeply, then slowly let out his breath. “Until I can sell this place. I’ll take the money and move.”

  “Move?!”

  “I have no choice. I’m telling you first because if you want the farm, I’ll sell it to you cheaper. You could go to the bank and see about a mortgage.”

  Phineas stared at him. Slowly, he shook his head. “Nein. I couldn’t buy your land. I would, for a time, sharecrop it. When it’s safe, you can return.”

  “I can’t ask that of you.”

  “You didn’t ask. I offered. What do Hope and Annie say about this plan of yours?”

  “I haven’t told them. We have a few weeks before I’ll need to do anything. Annie’s already nervous about having the baby. I’ll speak to Hope soon, but first I wanted to ask you to find a place. As long as she goes, I know Emmy-Lou and Annie will be okay.”

  “Hope will agree?”

  Jakob didn’t hesitate a second. “Ja. She loves my daughter and my sister. I wouldn’t consider this plan if it weren’t for her.

  I trust her completely.”

  Phineas nodded sagely. “A man does what he must to protect the women he loves.”

  “Ja.”

  Phineas smacked Jakob on the shoulder. “It’s about time!”

  Jakob raised a brow in silent inquiry.

  “I said ‘women,’ and you agreed. I’ve wondered for days how much longer it would take for you to admit you love Hope.”

  “The time’s not right.” Jakob’s jaw thrust forward. “I’m torn between wanting to keep Hope by my side and wanting to send her away. Until I can shelter and protect her, I have no right to say anything.”

  “C’mere, sugar pie.” Hope reached out and took Emmy-Lou’s hand. “I got a grand idea. Whilst your auntie sits here and sews, how’s about you and me havin’ a little fun?”

  “Okay! What’re we gonna do?”

  “I’m fixin’ to show you some stars.” For the past several evenings, Hope had plotted this. Before she hadn’t had the time, but now with the reaping and threshing over, she grabbed the opportunity. In the twilight, beneath the sycamore, she and Jakob’s daughter chased fireflies. Try as she might, Emmy-Lou couldn’t capture any, but Hope caught some in a canning jar. Satisfied with what she had, she used the spring mechanism to seal the jar, then knelt down. “Emmy-Lou, lemme show you what I got.”

  Emmy-Lou twisted and tripped. She lay on the ground, her eyeglasses up on her forehead and her lower lip trembling.

  It took everything within Hope to keep from springing up and running to her. Emmy-Lou hadn’t hit anything hard enough to get hurt, and giving her pity would only make her cry. Instead, Hope asked, “Is the ground okay?”

  “The ground?” Emmy-Lou pushed herself upright.

  “Yup. I bet that patch of dirt didn’t expect you to go floppin’ on it. You’d best dust yourself off so’s the dirt gets to go back to where it belongs. But first put your spectacles on your nose.

  You ain’t got eyes up there on your forehead.”

  Pulling her glasses back into place, she giggled. “Daddy has eyes in the back of his head.”

  “I knew there was somethin’ special ’bout him.” Actually, lots of special things. He’s a good man. Best I ever met. Emmy-Lou and Annie are lucky to be his.

  “Did I put enough dirt back?” Emmy-Lou spread out her skirts.

  “Almost. Yeah. You got that last spot real good. Now c’mere.”

  Emmy-Lou came over and nestled close. Hope held up the jar.

  “What do you see?”

  A small finger ventured to touch the glass. “Sparkles.”

  “Twinkles, like a star?”

  Face bright with glee, Emmy-Lou couldn’t take her gaze from the jar. “Is that how stars twinkle?”

  “They look the same to me. Watch and see how there’s a twinkle, then a couple, then it all goes dark.”

  “And then there’s lotsa twinkles all at the same time! I saw it.

  I did! Did you see it, too?”

  They sat beneath the tree, in the shade-cooled patch of grass, admiring the fireflies and chattering. Hope wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she heard footsteps. She recognized the sure, steady stride at once. The last few days, his steps had changed—become ponderous or sad. She wasn’t sure which, or why. But Mr. Stauffer’s approach carried with it the self-assured pace that normally characterized him. “I hear your pa a-comin’.”

  “Daddy! Miss Hope got me a whole jar of twinkle stars!”

  “Did she now?” Mr. Stauffer lowered himself to the ground and sat cross-legged. He reached over and lifted Emmy-Lou into his lap. “Let
’s see.”

  He dipped his head so his cheek rested against his daughter’s temple and listened to Emmy-Lou as she repeated the things Hope had told her. At all the right times, he hummed appreciatively or made comments.

  Hope watched and listened, relishing the way Jakob lavished attention on his little girl. How could a man be so very strong, yet unspeakably tender? Whatever had been weighing heavy on his heart must be over, a fact that delighted her.

  When little Emmy-Lou’s chatter finally wound down, he tapped the side of the jar. “What made you catch these?”

  “I dunno. Miss Hope, why did we catch the sparkle-fireflies?” Hope thought for a moment. She’d made plans, but with Mr.

  Stauffer here, she suddenly felt self-conscious. I’m bein’ silly. Don’t make no never mind what he thinks of me. I never bothered to worry what any other man thought. It’s different with him, though. Don’t know why that is. Well, yeah, I guess I do. A feller who’s this devoted to his family—he’s a man to be admired. It’s natural to care what somebody thinks when you admire them.

  “Miss Hope?”

  Hope shook her head to clear away her thoughts. I’ll leave here and he’ll forget me, but I want Emmy-Lou to remember what we done tonight. “Emmy-Lou, ’member how you went to Abilene and your pa used the light in the sky to help you get home?”

  “Uh-huh! Like in our song—’bout the traveler in the dark.”

  Pleasure trickled through Hope. This would have been a delightful time, just playing—but Emmy-Lou’s bright mind allowed this to be a time to learn, too. “When you hear in the Bible about the stars in the heavens, I want you to ’member all these twinkles. Right now, it’s like you’re holding stars in your hands.”

  Mr. Stauffer’s head shot up. It was too dim to see his eyes well enough to tell what he was thinking. His lips parted, but he said nothing.

  Emmy-Lou tilted her head back until it thumped against her father’s chest, then craned her neck. “I see the tree. I don’t see stars.”