Forevermore

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “Just ’cuz you can’t see ’em, does it mean they’re not there?”

  Emmy-Lou giggled. “That’s silly.” She turned her attention back to the jar. “I can’t count how many there are. They blink and go away. How many stars are there in the sky?”

  “Only God knows how many, Liebling, but they shine like the little dots in your jar. Miss Hope is right.” His voice dropped to a lower, softer tone that had the odd effect of making her yearn to lean closer to him. “It’s like you have a piece of the sky in your hands.”

  Hugging the jar tightly, Emmy-Lou let out a blissful sigh.

  “I getta keep it in my room and have my very own stars every night now.”

  I shoulda thought about that. Well, it ain’t fair to let her go on thinkin’ she can keep ’em forever. Hope looked at her boss, and a lazy smile slanted across his face. Clearly, he’d left the explanation to her.

  “Sugar pie, the fireflies have families they wanna get back to.

  When they’re where they belong, they’ll twinkle better. When you open the jar, they’ll fly up, up, and away to the ones what love ’em.”

  Emmy-Lou’s lower lip poked out. “Don’t they wanna stay and be my friend?”

  “Just like you got to play with your friends and then come home to your daddy, them fireflies played with us and now they wanna go back home. Friends come and go. Family’s what you keep.”

  “You don’t got any family. We’ll keep you!”

  Hope leaned close in order to make sure Emmy-Lou saw her clearly. “We done talked ’bout that a while back. I’m like a dandelion wishy. I’ll blow on down the road so’s I can help someone else.” An unexpected and unexplainable heaviness settled in her heart as she spoke those words. In spite of her own feelings, she put Emmy-Lou’s welfare first. “Your auntie will have the baby, and after that, I’ll be here for . . .” She thought for a moment. “I’ll be here for two more Sunday church services. Then I’ll leave.”

  “Let’s not borrow the future. Let’s enjoy this minute.” Mr. Stauffer settled his arms loosely about his daughter. “I used to catch lightning bugs when I was a boy.”

  “Did Aunt Annie help you?”

  A rich chuckle rippled out of him. “Nein. She and my brother and I would have a contest to see who could catch the most. The only problem is, it’s hard to count them because they move in the jar!”

  “You got yourself a brother?” As soon as she asked, Hope wished she hadn’t.

  “I did, but now Annie and I are the only ones left.”

  He sounded so matter-of-fact, Hope wondered if his brother had died in his youth. But then why didn’t Jakob stay on the family farm?

  “Emmy-Lou, it’s about bedtime for you.” His hold on her tightened the slightest bit. “You’d best let out those little bugs now.”

  Emmy-Lou balked for a moment. Slumping back into her father’s chest she asked in a tiny, sad voice, “Can we sing?”

  “Shore. Your daddy can undo the latch, and when you’re ready, you can lift off the lid.”

  Mr. Stauffer turned his attention on her. “Hope, come over closer. Help us.”

  How had he known that just minutes ago she’d yearned to lean closer? Hope felt her cheeks go warm.

  “Yeah, Miss Hope. C’mon. I need your help, too.”

  As soon as Hope scooted closer, her boss surprised her by giving the waistband of her apron an almost playful tug. “I could drive a team of horses in the space between us. Get on over here.”

  An odd feeling shot through her. Hope couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Part of her wanted to laugh at his outrageous comment. Mr. Stauffer wasn’t given to speaking so glibly. But a strange longing also assailed her. For a moment, Hope wondered what it would be like to squeeze alongside him so she and Emmy-Lou would share his shelter and security. She compromised by wiggling a hairsbreadth closer. “There.”

  A large, incredibly warm hand suddenly curled around her shoulder and tugged her a mere inch away from him. “No.” A grin creased his face and made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “There.” Before Hope could react, Jakob began singing. “Twinkle, twinkle—”

  Though Emmy-Lou immediately joined in, her sweet soprano blending with her father’s rich baritone, Hope remained silent. Many, many years ago, her mother sang this same song with her. A wealth of bittersweet memories swept through her, leaving in its wake a heaviness. This ain’t like me, broodin’. Emmy-Lou ain’t got herself a mama, but she has her auntie and her daddy—a first-rate daddy. Ain’t never seen a man father his kid the way he does. I oughtta count myself lucky that Mr. Stauffer don’t mind me bein’ here and that God let me share this moment.

  Emmy-Lou started to open the jar and Hope began to sing as the fireflies flitted free. Mr. Stauffer didn’t know the third verse, so she and Emmy-Lou sang a duet. Hope missed the rich tone of his voice. I set out to make Jakob’s daughter a memory tonight, but he done turned it around. I’ll be leavin’ here, and I’ll always carry the recollection of us sittin’ side by side in the dark, him cuddlin’ her and singing. Emmy-Lou’s gonna make it through life just fine because of him.

  Afterward, Mr. Stauffer gave his daughter a kiss. “I’ll come listen to your prayers.” He set Emmy-Lou on her feet.

  Hope started to rise, but as she got to her knees, Emmy-Lou’s arms wound around her neck. “Thank you, Miss Hope. I liked holding the bug jar. The sparkles were so pretty. I’m glad the sky has lotsa stars that twinkle like that.”

  “You’re welcome.” Hope squeezed her tight. The delicate wire frame of Emmy-Lou’s glasses felt cool against Hope’s cheek.

  Tilting her head ever so slightly to keep from bending the metal, Hope whispered, “When you’re in bed, you can close your eyes and still see all them twinkles.”

  “I’m sure she will.” Mr. Stauffer extended his hand to her to help her up. “Hope?”

  He’s always such a gentleman. Ain’t been a single time since I been here that he ain’t pitched in, helped out, or shown fine manners. She accepted his assistance and rose. “Thankee.”

  When he let go of her hand, Hope felt odd. Lost. I’m tired. That’s all. It just ain’t like me to be emotional. Then Emmy-Lou slipped her small hand into Hope’s. I didn’t realize how big Mr. Stauffer’s hands are.

  Holding hands, the three of them walked to the house together. Every so often, Emmy-Lou lifted both feet so she’d hang suspended. Hope glanced at her boss as they approached the porch. Annie sat there, her needle poised over a bitsy white gown. Hope glanced at her boss and murmured, “You got yourself a mighty nice family, Mr. Stauffer.”

  “Call me Jakob, Hope.”

  His invitation took her by surprise. “You bein’ my boss and all, it don’t seem quite right. You deserve my respect.”

  “I respect you deeply, and I use your given name. For as long as you stay here, call me Jakob.”

  For as long as I stay here. But it won’t be long now. Annie’ll have her babe any day, and soon after that Mr. Stauffer will hitch Hattie to my cart and send me on my way.

  “Say it. Jakob.”

  Hope scrunched her nose. “It’ll feel odd to me, calling you by your given name.” Personal. Like we’re friends. But we are. I don’t know how it happened, me making a man my friend. But ain’t a finer man on the face of the earth.

  “You’ll get used to it.” His voice sounded pleasant. “So?”

  “Jakob,” she said. Her voice sounded breathless. Embarrassed, she repeated, “Yep. You got yourself a mighty fine family.”

  “Thanks. I do have a ‘mighty nice family.’ What about yours, Hope? What happened to them?”

  As if by some prearranged plan, they both turned loose of Emmy-Lou. She scampered up the porch steps, leaving them behind. Hope called out to her, “I left milk and a cookie on the table for your bedtime snack.”

  Annie pried herself out of the chair. “I ate the cookie. I’ll get her another.”

  Hope started to do it herself, but her boss held her back
. “You were going to tell me about what happened to your family.”

  Just to have something to do with her empty hands, Hope crammed them into her apron pockets. “I lost ’em all at the same time in eighty-two.” She hitched her shoulders in a tense little jerk. “Smallpox.”

  He drew in a sharp breath. “You must have been so young.”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Hope”—compassion resonated in his voice—“how terrible. You were no more than a girl.”

  “I ain’t gonna pretend it was easy.” Most of the time she kept busy enough, and the past was a mere blur. Even now, a decade later, she felt the loss of all whom she’d loved. She dared to look into his steady blue gaze and confessed, “Even lookin’ back sometimes pains me. I take refuge in knowin’ they’re resting in the bosom of Christ Jesus.”

  “Even knowing we’ll be reunited in heaven—that doesn’t make the grief go away.” The glow of the kerosene lantern on the porch illuminated the understanding on his face.

  He knows the ache. His is fresh, too, yet he’s still strong for his daughter and sis. Hope looked away.

  A rough finger gently turned her face back to his. “How did you survive?”

  “An old lady took me in. Eudora Gray. She dragged me outta the swamp of my poor-pitiful-me’s and got my feet firmly planted on the Solid Rock. Filled my heart and mind with God’s truth.”

  A small laugh bubbled out of Hope. “Nobody could be grumpy around her for long. Always struck me as odd, how a woman by the last name of Gray could always be so sunny. If ’n I close my eyes, I can still see her sittin’ in her rockin’ chair a-wagglin’ her gnarly old finger at me.”

  Perching his hands on his lean hips, Mr. Stauffer drawled, “Is that so? Stretches my imagination that she’d ever have to ask you to do anything. You pitch right in and are a hard worker. What did she scold you about?”

  “My attitude.” Hope lifted her forefinger and imitated the action. “ ‘The Bible tells us in everything give thanks. It doesn’t say for everything; it says in everything. Don’t lie and tell God thanks when you’re not grateful. He wants you to look past the problem and find the scrap of good that’s there. God isn’t a fairy-tale genie who gives us everything we want; we have to lean hard on Him and trust He’ll work things out.’ ” Hope tucked her hand back in her apron pocket and smiled. “Them words of advice shore have sung in my heart over the years.”

  “In everything give thanks,” he quoted slowly, thoughtfully. Brows shooting high on his forehead, Mr. Stauffer let out a disbelieving laugh. “I never noticed that. It really doesn’t say to give thanks for everything.”

  “Neither did I—’til then. So Mrs. Gray set me to tryin’ to find something good in the midst of every little thing. It shore did turn my attitude round.”

  “I’ll have to meditate on that verse.”

  Annie came back outside, sat down, and picked up her sewing. They walked up the steps. Hope went to Annie’s side. “Oooh, Annie, that’s gotta be the most purdiest baby gown yet.”

  Annie knotted the thread and snipped it. “It’s done. If it weren’t for Sydney’s sewing machine and all of your help, my baby would have to go naked.”

  “We’ve had us some wonderful hours.” Hope turned to her boss. “Whilst we’ve been sewin’, Annie and me—we been workin’ on memorizing that psalm the parson preached on that first Sunday I came here. Annie’s got the sweetest readin’ voice.”

  Annie fingered the tatted-edged sleeve so it laid straight. “We each have special verses in that psalm.”

  “What are they?” Mr. Stauffer picked up the teensy gown and grinned at it.

  Hope motioned for Annie to speak. Annie needed folks to put her first in line.

  “I like verses two, three, and seven. ‘My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth, He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber.’ And, ‘The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul.’ ”

  Jakob slowly laid the gown across what little remained of his sister’s lap. He tended to move slowly and deliberately around her, a point that won Hope’s admiration. Annie needed men who made her feel secure. Looking at his sister, he nodded. “Those verses are fitting indeed. I’ll learn them, too.” He turned. “Hope, what’s your verse?”

  Annie set aside the gown and murmured, “Excuse me.” She went into the house. “Emmy-Lou, why don’t you come make a trip with me?” A moment later, the back screen door shut.

  “What’s your verse?” Mr. Stauffer repeated.

  “The last one in the chapter. ‘The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.’ What with me blowing along from pillar to post”— she flashed him a grin to let him know she’d remembered to say the old saw correctly—“it’s good to know He’ll be with me no matter where I go.”

  Mr. Stauffer pondered a moment. “Ja, Hope, it is true. God will go with you. Thinking on that should give us both peace.”

  The patter of little feet pounded up the back steps, the porch slammed shut, and Emmy-Lou came to the front door.

  “Daddy!”

  “I’ll come tuck you in, in a minute.”

  “But Auntie Annie said she needs you right now.”

  Twenty-Two

  Wait here.” Jakob set his daughter off to the side and ran through the house. Hope hadn’t hesitated. She was a few yards ahead, but by the time they reached the back door, he’d pulled up alongside her.

  Manners dictated he open the door for her. Hope didn’t stand on propriety. She grabbed for the knob, too. Their fingers jammed into a knot. She yanked back, but the minute the screen door started to open, Hope pushed it wide open and ran to Annie.

  Annie leaned against the garden fence. In the moonlight, a patch of moisture darkened the earth by her hem. Hope skidded to a stop, propped her hands on her hips, and stared at that patch. “Annie, you shore got an odd way of waterin’ the tomatoes.”

  Hysterics. That’s what it had to be. No other explanation could cover why the women giggled.

  “Phineas!” The moment he bellowed the hand’s name, Jakob wished he hadn’t. He should have urged Hope to take care of his sister and gone to the barn. Then he could have ridden off to Forsaken and gotten Velma. Instead, now he’d have to stay here. Unless Phineas didn’t hear—

  “Honest to Pete, Annie, this brother of yours missed his calling. Why, he shoulda been marchin’ round Jericho with—” She laced her arm with Annie’s and started to escort her toward the house. “I can’t recollect which feller hollered and the walls come a-tumblin’ down. Who was that?”

  “Joshua.” Annie made it up the back porch steps.

  “Yeah. That’s the one! Jakob could holler again, and Velma would probably hear him, don’tcha think?” Jakob stared in amazement. Hope’s tone sounded playful, yet as she followed Annie inside, she feverishly swished her hand at him behind her back—an unmistakable gesture to hurry up.

  Phineas came running. “What?”

  “Annie’s in labor.”

  Phineas shoved past him. “What are you standing there for? Go fetch Velma! Hope, move. Here, Annie. Let me help you.”

  Jakob stood in the doorway and watched as Phineas gently lifted Annie into his arms and started carrying her up the stairs.

  “Daddy”—Emmy-Lou stood on tiptoe over at the edge of the parlor where he’d told her to stay—“can I come with you?”

  Hope clapped her hands. “That’s a dandy notion. You wait just a jiffy. I’ll go grab your nightgown and dolly, and you can trade. Velma will stay here tonight, and you can sleep in one of Mrs. Creighton’s purdy rooms. Tomorrow, you’ll come home, and your auntie will show you your new cousin!”

  “Ja. That is how we’ll work it.” To Jakob’s relief, Big Tim Creighton and his wife were delighted to keep Emmy-Lou. Better still, Velma already had her doctoring bag packed— “Just in case.”

  Riding home in the dark took half of f
orever.

  “God blessed us with a bright moon. We made good time.”

  Velma dismounted and didn’t bother to tether her mount.

  Jakob looked at her—she didn’t look as if she were teasing. If she couldn’t tell time any better than that, would she be able to keep track of Annie’s contractions?

  Phineas came down from the porch. “I’ll see to the horses.”

  “Just hers.” Jakob led Nicodemus to the barn. As they tended the horses, he asked, “How’s Annie doing?”

  “Laughing.” Phineas sounded as if he couldn’t decide whether to be disgusted or relieved.

  “Laughing?”

  “Hope thought it was taking too long for you to get home.

  She got out that medical book and wanted me to read it.”

  “Why didn’t she ask Annie?”

  Phineas hefted the saddle and dumped it onto the stand. “She said the pictures would scare Annie. I told her Annie could look at the words, not the pictures.”

  Hope’s big eyes probably shot fire at him. It wasn’t right to make fun of Phineas, though. If Jakob hadn’t been reading to Hope these last few days, in the moment of impending crisis he might well have had the same reaction. “What was Annie doing?”

  “Sitting on the top step, bundled in her robe, laughing. Laughing!”

  Oh no. I was hoping they’d gotten beyond the shock by now. If they’re still having hysterics and it’s early on, how will they cope toward the end of the ordeal? Jakob cleared his throat. “Does Hope have all the towels and dishcloths ready?”

  “And water boiling. So there I am, holding that fat book, and Hope tells me where to find the information.”

  “Gut. Sehr gut.” So it’s not so bad after all. Hope is seeing to the essentials. I should have had more faith in her. She’s level-headed. “It makes sense that she asked you to read. I’ve been reading to her.”

  Finally, a smile chased across Phineas’s face. “Ja. She told me childbirth went by a crazy name and I’d find it under ‘part-you’re-wishin’.”

  “Part . . . ” Incredulous, Jakob shouted out a laugh.