The Deepest Sigh

by Naomi Musch

  Lang thought of Jacob Hessman. Some people in town had stopped shopping at his store because of his German ancestry. Jacob was a decent man, and those people were idiots. If Lang needed to keep an eye on anyone it would indeed be Jacob, but not because of his bloodline. He would need to watch him because of his wife. Yet, Lang didn't really mind if Jacob had a soft spot for Rilla. When Lang finally got together with Delia, a man like Jacob Hessman would provide Rilla with the comfort she would need.

  Yesterday's situation leapt back to mind. He had forgotten about their anniversary. In fact, while Theo was at work, Lang had taken the opportunity to drift over for a visit with Delia. It wasn't unusual for him to do that when Theo worked long days. He always told her he was just checking in on her, seeing if she needed firewood brought up, or bringing over some fresh milk from the farm. Sometimes she fed him lunch, and they chatted like old pals. Lang loved her more than ever.

  When he had arrived there yesterday, she was having trouble with her rotary squeeze scrubber. She mentioned the handle kept catching, and the rollers weren't coming together properly, so Lang had spent half an hour fixing it. She thanked him more than once, and every sparkle in her eyes made the effort worth it. She had offered him some left over roast beef for lunch. When she said, "Better save some room for your supper. I'm sure Rilla's fixing you something special for your anniversary," he almost choked on the meat. To then come home and have another roast beef waiting for him felt more than ironic. Guilt had settled hard on him. He had stuffed himself with Rilla's meal even though he wasn't hungry. Then he went out of his way to play with Emmett just to please her.

  He settled another wedge of wood into the stack and turned to face Theo. "You keep an eye on the Germans then. I'll just stick to farming."

  "You aren't sore at me, are you?" Theo asked with a smile.

  Lang snorted and brushed the matter off.

  "Thanks for stopping by and fixing Delia's scrubber yesterday, by the way. I probably wouldn't have had time to get at it for a day or two."

  What was Theo doing here with Lang, jabbering his head off if he didn't have time to take care of his wife's needs around the house? Lang worked every day on the farm from four a.m. until well past dark, and he still managed to squeeze in a brief lunch with Delia now and then. He cast another glance at Theo and sniffed. "Wasn't a problem. Thought maybe I'd catch you home to see if you still had that set of drawings your brother used when he put up his windmill. Thinking I should consider one here." Lang made small talk. He had thought of the plans as an excuse for going to see Delia in case anyone should ask. He really didn't know if he'd ever have need of a windmill. It all depended on how long he stayed. It all depended on the wife of the man in front of him.

  "I'll have to look and see. I might have given them back to William. Say, there's another reason why I stopped." Theo's expression turned serious. He glanced to his feet and up again.

  Lang's breathing was labored from stacking wood, but not only for that reason. Had Theo developed suspicions about Lang's feelings? Maybe he did. Maybe he would say so. Maybe it would all come out right now. His chest tightened. Maybe—

  "I'm going to be working a lot of overtime the next few weeks. With Christmas coming and travelers...you know. Is it all right if I tell Delia to call on you and Rilla if she needs anything? Maybe encourage her to spend some time here? She gets lonesome when I'm gone so much."

  Lang took a deep breath and rubbed a flannel sleeve across his forehead. The cold, late November wind turned his sweat to ice on his brow. "Sure. That's no trouble at all. I can check in on her in the afternoon when I take my lunch too." He added a note of nonchalance to his voice. "Happy to do it."

  "Thanks buddy." Theo's mouth broadened into a smile again. "I knew I could count on you."

  "As long as she doesn't think me a pest."

  "Who, Delia? Not at all. I'll tell her to make you a pie or something." He backed away toward his car. "Say hi to Rilla and give the baby a kiss for us."

  Lang gave him a nod and a wave. "I will."

  He picked up the ax and carried it to the wheel stone. Yeah...have her make me a pie. Or something…

  Chapter Fourteen

  February 1917

  Rilla lifted Emmett from his cradle and cooed to him as she bundled his blankets tighter against the cold seeping through the walls and crawling across the floor of the cabin. The wood stove gave off a dull roar having been stoked to capacity with the dampers slightly open to allow it to burn freely. Outside temperatures had sunk well below zero, but it had improved since a few days ago when -20 temperatures were exacerbated by 40 mile per hour, gale force winds. For the first time in anyone's memory, the Omaha Road had annulled the movement of all passenger trains as the snow froze into ice, making it impossible to move them.

  Rilla was surprised when Theo dropped Delia off at her house this morning on his way to work. It was too cold outside for anyone to be about. Still, a visit from her sister would help to pass the bitter day. Emmett's tears quieted, and she kissed his damp cheeks. "Come, come baby. Don't cry. Mama's here." She carried him to the main room where Delia sat at the table near the stove with her needlework.

  She glanced up. "I feel such a sluggard watching you with Emmett. I don't even go to the farm and milk cows anymore. I think I should, especially to help during this awful cold. Theo wants me to stay comfortable at home, but he's gone all day, and I'm sure Daddy and Lang could use another hand."

  "Have you talked to them about it?"

  "I'm going to. I'm going to talk to Theo too. The honeymoon is over. It's time for me to be busy."

  Rilla gave her a wan smile and unbuttoned her blouse to nurse Emmett. Her own honeymoon had ended over a year ago for the most part. Oh, Lang was nice enough, but he didn't fawn over her the way Theo still fawned over Delia.

  She glanced at Delia's soft, white hands, intent on working the needle through the cloth on the hoop. Settling Emmett at her breast, she searched Delia's face. Her sister's eyes were focused on her handiwork, and a soft, untroubled smile lay on her ruby lips. Was it any wonder Lang cared for her?

  Sometime around Christmas Rilla had seen the truth. Lang went to Theo and Delia's house nearly every day for one reason or another. At first, she thought it was to fulfill his promise to Theo. Then she started noticing the comments more.

  "Delia bought a new dress from that catalog she was looking at here the other day. It was real pretty on her."

  Laughing... "Want to hear a story your sister told me today?" He never laughed at Rilla's stories.

  "Delia wants to see her nephew. Maybe I'll bundle him up and take him over for a while." Not, I'll take you and Emmett, Rilla. Just, I'll take him over for a while.

  Marilla put it away as nonsense at first. Her imagination was overreacting. She spent too much time alone, just her and the baby. Those remarks meant nothing. Yet she watched him when they were with Delia either alone or even when Theo was present. She saw, with new eyes, the way Lang admired her sister. Had it always been so? She refused, at first, to believe it. Maybe Lang was just bored. Winter was long, and after all, what had Marilla to offer him? She always had her arms full of dirty dishes, dirty clothes, a baby...

  Lang did love Emmett though, even if he didn't spend a lot of time doting over him. When Lang did spend time with him, Rilla would hear him whispering about hunting together and minding the chores. It warmed her heart. Her own parents weren't so affectionate with one another. Maybe that came with just being used to each other. Maybe it was normal.

  Delia let out a sigh. "I wonder what's going to become of us. Did you hear what the Germans are saying now? They're going to let their U-boats attack every ship in the waters around Europe. It doesn't matter why the ships are there, what nation they're from, or where they're going. President Wilson has ended all negotiations with them."

  Marilla frowned. "What will it mean?"

  "I don't know, but I don't think America will stay out of it much longer, least that's
what Theo says."

  War. It had seemed so distant a concept to Marilla. They were far removed from the more recent conflicts in Mexico. On their farm in northern Wisconsin, they might as well have been at the North Pole. "I wonder what Lang will say."

  "Oh, Lang thinks we're headed that way too. He only hopes he doesn't have to be dragged away into it."

  A sharp pain jabbed Marilla's chest. How did Delia know how Lang felt, but she didn't? Marilla frowned. She glanced at her sister again, then lowered her eyes to Emmett and busied herself switching him to her other side while next she spoke. "Delia, what do you and Lang talk about when he comes by? I know he stops there for lunch some days as part of his promise to Theo."

  Delia lowered her needlework as her gaze came up. She lifted her shoulders. "I don't know. Just things. Like we used to in the barn. Nothing important. Cows will be calving soon. I sure hope it warms up a little before they do."

  "Nothing important... Except for things like war and farming, I suppose." Her voice sounded bitter, but she didn't care.

  Delia didn't return to her stitching. "Marilla, what's wrong? Are you... Are you jealous? Doesn't Lang talk to you about those things?"

  She settled Emmett close. Her gaze returned haltingly to Delia's. She shook her head.

  "For heaven's sake, Rilla. It's probably just because he knows Theo and I talk about all these things. Maybe he thinks you're not interested. I don't know, but there's no reason for you to be upset or...or jealous."

  "I didn't say I was jealous." But she was. Oh, how she was.

  Delia set her work on the table and stood. She turned around to lift her sweater off the back of the chair. "That's good. Really, there's no cause."

  "He likes you, you know."

  Delia spun.

  "I can see it. It's quite obvious."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "He worries about you when Theo's gone. He's interested in the things you're interested in."

  "That's nonsense, Rilla." She stepped closer.

  He thinks you're pretty. Prettier than me. She couldn't say that.

  "Don't you ever think so. He loves you, Rilla. He loves you and Emmett very much. I know he does."

  She wouldn't bother arguing with her sister. She wouldn't go so far as to tell her Lang almost never said the words. Instead she watched Delia button her sweater. "We're going to have another baby."

  "What?" Delia gasped. She blinked and clasped her hands together. "Are you really?"

  Rilla nodded.

  Delia's voice lit with happiness. "Now it all makes sense. Your worries, your anxiousness. You're pregnant. It's normal."

  "Is it?" She couldn't remember feeling anxious with Emmett.

  "What did Lang say?"

  "I haven't told him."

  "Marilla, you're so lucky." Delia's voice was soft, her head tilted in wonder as she looked at Rilla.

  Was she? Was she still as lucky as she thought she had been a year ago? She frowned as she raised Emmett to burp him. Perhaps Delia was right. Maybe she'd blown all her feelings out of proportion. She believed she could trust Delia anyway. Emmett burped, and Marilla kissed his cheek, warm from being pressed against her. Maybe another baby was what she and Lang needed to seal their love forever.

  ~~~~~

  March 1917

  "Look at 'em." Lang spoke more to himself than to Rilla as he glanced up and down the huge crowd standing outside the depot. The 127 soldiers of Company E, some of whom had marched in last summer's Independence Day parade, were now embarking on a special train for Camp Douglas. The mobilization was due to the latest news about an intercepted telegram proving Germany was trying to coerce Japan and Mexico into declaring war on the United States. Today onlookers from Spooner, Shell Lake, Trego, Springbrook, and all the other scattering of townships in between were gathered to see them off. Lang wouldn't have come himself if it weren't for Theodore and all the others who were raised with these boys. Even Rilla's eyes glistened as she waved goodbye to young men she had gone to school with.

  Lang knew enough about war to realize some of them had starry-eyed notions about what they were getting into. Adventure—or so they thought. Well, the fellows on the train who had already served in the disputes with Mexico would straighten them out in a hurry. Lang put his arm around Rilla, holding her close as the train engine fired and the crowd surged closer. Soldiers waved hats out the windows. Wives, mothers, and girlfriends cried, and children waved banners as the iron wheels turned, and the train moved down the track. Rilla gave a small wave too as the train pulled away.

  "Shall we go?"

  She nodded. He turned her aside, and they wound their way through the crowd toward the wagon. Thankfully, Rilla's mother had stayed home with Emmett. Lang and Rilla had declined riding to the depot with Theo and Delia since they had to go into town afterward, but the other couple caught up to them on their way out.

  Theo was worked up about the boys leaving. He almost seemed to wish he were with them. Not that Lang would mind if he left his pretty wife behind and went to war, but his sensible side believed Theo sometimes behaved impetuously. Lang intended to stay as far from all the trouble on the world's other continents as possible.

  Traffic dispersed, Lang and Rilla's wagon with it. She huddled close to his side as a cold March breeze swept fingers down their necks hinting of more snow on the way. The cans of milk he had to deliver to the dairy jiggled in the wagon bed, and Rilla peeked between them to check on her crate of butter and eggs.

  "Everything okay?"

  She nodded.

  "You didn't forget your list, did you?"

  "No."

  She was quiet today, more so than usual. Then again... He thought about it for a while. Maybe it wasn't just today. Rilla's bubbling disposition had changed to reticence. Or was it just him?

  "Guess we'll go to the dairy first. I saw your sister wearing a new dress today. How about we pick you something out of Jacob's catalog while we're in town?"

  She sighed from some deep place. He glanced at her, but her eyes were downcast at her mittened hands in her lap. If something was bothering her, she should just say so, but she didn't. All right then. Let her keep it to herself. Lang clicked his tongue at the horse to hurry it up. He'd be glad when spring came.

  After his milk delivery, they continued to Main Street and Hessman's Store. They drew close enough to see the storefront, and a weight settled hard in Lang's chest. Rilla gasped. Jacob stood outside the store, scrubbing at his front window, the scrub water on the glass turning to a glaze of pink ice as he smeared away at the words someone had written. Jacob had already scoured off the H, and the letters UN were smeared, but GET OUT was still visible. Lang cursed, and Rilla gripped his arm.

  "Poor Jacob," she murmured.

  Lang patted her hand and leapt down, moving around to help her from the wagon. "Come on. We'll talk to him." Lang looked up and down the street as he walked up the plank walk with Rilla beside him. Jacob turned to acknowledge their coming.

  "What's this? Kids' been vandalizing?" He hoped by putting the foul work in that light, Jacob would know he and Rilla took the act for the crudeness it was.

  Jacob frowned and sloshed away at the letters. "I am not certain it was kids."

  Rilla pressed forward and reached for the bucket. "I'll help you."

  "No. You will dampen your clothes," Jacob said. "It's all right. Thank you. Go inside where it is warm. I'll be with you shortly."

  "But—"

  "Come on, Rilla." Lang tugged her away. The man was embarrassed and didn't want his emotions on display in front of either of them, especially Rilla.

  She moved with reluctance into the store. "It's terrible!" she blurted. "Who would do such a thing, here in little Shell Lake?"

  "There are probably plenty who share the sentiment."

  "I don't believe it."

  "They won't all act on it, of course."

  "Jacob was born here. He grew up and went to school here. His whole life is
here!"

  "Speak softly, Rilla."

  She looked chastised, yet tears had risen like a tide in her sea-colored eyes.

  He jerked his head for her to follow him, and they went toward the back of the store, away from the windows. There he drew her into his arms and felt her choke on a sob. "Shh... Jacob is tough. He can handle mean words."

  She dashed a finger beneath each eye. "I know. I just don't like it."

  He kissed her forehead. "Where's the girl I know? I haven't seen her lately? You're strong too, Rilla. We can be strong together for Jacob."

  A sudden smacking sound brought their heads up. They looked across the store at the window, where another smack struck, and the distinct look of egg yolk ran down the glass. Jacob was peering into the street, ducking, as another egg whirled past his head and hit the building. He shook his fist and yelled.

  "Stay inside." Lang lurched across the store and out the door as the crack of more strikes hit the glass, sounding like it would break, and more yolk smeared down in a golden blob. Jacob was yelling for the boys to stop, but they weren't really boys. They were young men. In fact, two older men stood on the other side of his wagon, laughing and encouraging them on, while they thrashed through Rilla's egg crate and continued smashing eggs in the street and against the side of Jacob's store.

  Lang flung himself off the porch and into the street, catching one of the fellows by the collar before the offender could figure out what was happening. Lang cuffed him once hard, and the boy tried to spin away and slug back. Lang shoved him onto the ground. "Get going," he growled. One of the men, a fellow a few years older than Lang whom Lang recognized as a local carouser, stepped around the wagon to face him.

  The man sneered, drawing up his fists. "You a Hun lover, or are you a Hun yourself?"

  "Neither. But I live here, and Jacob has probably lived her longer than either of us."

  "You think that makes it okay we let his kind just walk around freely on the streets and take our money while our boys have just gone off on that train in Spooner to fight?"