by Naomi Musch
Chapter Sixteen
June 1917
The call for volunteers was plastered everywhere. Jacob Hessman, anxious to do his part, put up posters in his storefront. Images of the white-bearded, star-studded, wise, and commanding Uncle Sam stared at passersby urging them to Volunteer and Choose Your Own Branch of the Service or warning men Don't Wait for the Draft. Every time Marilla drove past Jacob's store, she remembered the day those men had taken the eggs from her own wagon and thrown them at him, and Lang had stopped them.
Though Jacob never said so, she wondered if he was uncomfortable promoting a war against the land of his heritage. While he had been born here in Wisconsin, just like her, his parents had come from Germany. They had settled in central Wisconsin at first and moved north a few years later with Jacob's older sister Hilda. Jacob was born right here in Washburn County. He couldn't be any more American, yet she suspected he felt compelled to promote his patriotism to prove it. Hilda had moved to South Dakota with her husband Karl a few years back. Their parents, being older when Hilda and her husband first married, had both passed on soon after their first grandchild was born. Sometimes Rilla wondered if Jacob ever considered following his sister and brother-in-law west, especially in light of the unsettling events going on these days. But perhaps there was no escaping the times.
She ignored the posters, but it was difficult to ignore the talk. She strode into Jacob's store on a warm day in mid-June. She removed her hat and held it by its brim as she glanced around the store. No other customers were present. Jacob stepped out of the back room where his storage area and private apartments were.
"Hello, Jacob."
His smile widened his face. "Good day to you, Mrs. Prescott."
"You can still call me Rilla you know." She offered him a smile. "I'm the girl whose braid you used to pull in school, remember?"
"All right, Rilla." His gaze went to her hat, which did little to conceal the small mound beneath, not that she was trying.
"I am wondering if you have some good solid cotton. It's time I make more diapers, as you seem to have noticed."
"It would be ungentlemanly of me to notice a woman's delicate condition. But yes, I have plenty." They walked over to the bolts of fabric and he pulled out some soft cotton flannel. "How much would you like?"
"Three yards."
He carried the cloth to the counter and pulled out his long scissors and yardstick. He focused on his task of measuring and cutting while he spoke. "How do you like your automobile?"
"I like it very much. I shouldn't have argued against it so long. Life is definitely easier with it."
"I hope to buy a new one next year."
That Jacob could afford such extravagance as a new car didn't surprise her, yet it did make her wonder what it would be like to be able to do such things without much concern. He had done well with his store, even in light of the fact he'd lost customers because of his German ancestry.
"Have things been well with you, Jacob?"
He glanced up. That day in the past lay close to the edges on both their minds. "Everything is well. Some hurl insults like eggs." He gave a wan smile. "But those are easily cleaned up and forgotten. The war will end as soon as it's begun, and everything will return to normal."
"I hope so." She had heard rumors that the government had issued "tips" for recognizing pro-Germans, and such citizens could be imprisoned. The days of anything seeming normal felt far-gone.
"Don't worry about me." He snipped along the ruler's edge. "How are things at the farm? I understand your husband plans to put in a large potato crop."
She nodded. "Yes, that will be new. We've not done market crops other than hay and oats before. Lang is certain it will do well like others' have, and now with the war, markets will increase."
"He is a good farmer."
"Yes." She warmed at Jacob's compliment of her husband. "He is at that." She looked around as he folded up the material, and she spied the newspapers at the door. "Jacob, what do you think will happen if the war doesn't end soon?"
He shrugged. "I see no reason why it won't, as long as there are enough men willing to go and shore up the Europeans' forces."
"What do the papers say?" He met her eyes at her question, and she added, "I don't like to read them lately."
He rested his hands on the counter. "The president has issued a 'recruiting week' as he calls it. If enough men enlist in each county, there will be no need of a draft."
"Either way..."
"The papers say volunteers will receive extra training and be first in line for promotion. They will be able to choose their line of service. Drafted men will not."
"That's good then, isn't it? I mean—" She was thinking of Theo and his safety. "If the men volunteer, they'll be more likely to find themselves in less dangerous places."
He eyed her with a brief glance and turned to put away his ruler and scissors. "That is something to hope for." He shrugged. "Yet, war is war. There will be casualties at every level."
His remarks scared her. "Still...we can hope."
"Is your husband...?" He didn't finish the sentence, but she understood the question.
"No. He will stay and work the farm. Now that we are expecting again"—she let out a rush of air hoping to cool her face—"it is important he stays."
Jacob nodded. "Yes. Even if a draft should come, it is unlikely he will be forced to serve. They will take the single men without familial responsibility."
Her heart quickened, and she frowned. "What about you, Jacob? If there is a draft, will you—"
He shook his head. "The store is necessary to the community. It would be unlikely."
Her shoulders relaxed. "That's good. I'm glad. I wouldn't want you to have to go. I don't want any of my friends to go. I wish Theo..." She shook her head and reached for her fabric.
"You are probably right. If Theo volunteers, he will remain in the safest position. Certainly, you and Mrs. Strom and the rest of your family will be praying for him, as will the rest of the community."
He couldn't know how his comment stung her. Marilla turned inward. She hadn't prayed in weeks. Even attending church, she had been so consumed turning her own thoughts around on themselves that she rarely lifted them up to God. Her conscience pricked her. She should try to change that.
He tapped his fingers on the counter. "Can I get you anything else, Marilla?"
She returned her attention to him and sighed. "Yes. Please. I have a list." She pulled a piece of paper from her dress pocket and handed it to Jacob, thankful for his reminder and words that encouraged her.
~~~~~
Delia stood on the train platform at Lang's left side, while Rilla stood on his right holding Emmett. The train engine fired, and the whistle screeched. Emmett jumped, and Rilla pressed her cheek against the baby's. Delia's shoulders brushed Lang, and he felt the shudder of her anguish in the slightness of the touch.
"I'll be back before you know it!" Theo's voice was hard to hear above all the others, calling out the open window of the train car, but Lang made out the words.
"I love you!" Delia cried. She'd said it again and again. "Stay safe, darling! I love you!" Tears ran down her cheeks, but Theo's excitement to be part of this thing that had taken over the world ran deeper than her sorrow. He blew her another kiss and waved his hat out the window along with carloads of others the train had collected from places north in Superior, Ashland, Hayward, and a dozen tinier towns along the way.
"Take care of her for me!" His words drifted over their heads as Theo's eyes brushed past Lang and Rilla.
Take care of her for me.
How could Theo leave Delia like that? No one was forcing his hand. A conflict of anger and gladness wrestled within Lang, anger over Theo's decision that crushed Delia's heart and gladness because her husband would be out of the picture for a while, while Lang would be the only one to take care of her needs and offer her comfort.
Yes, I'll take care of her. You bet I will. He dipped h
is chin and waved goodbye.
They watched until the train disappeared out of sight. Even then, Delia stared after her departed husband as though he was a vapor she longed to reach out and grasp but could not tangibly do so. Emmett grew restless and Rilla paced, bouncing him on her hip.
Lang reached over and put a hand on Delia's back. "We won't let you wait alone. Come." She turned at last and looked into his face, her eyes swollen and red with tears. "I'll miss him so."
"I know." He drew her close with an arm and patted her back. For only two seconds, she rested her forehead on his shoulder and let him comfort her. The desire to wrap both his arms around her battled against propriety inside him. He patted once or twice, and then she straightened and sniffed.
He reached into his coat pocket and handed her his fresh hankie. She nodded and dabbed. "I'm ready now."
Rilla came back to them and clutched her sister's hand. With their heads bent together, they walked back to their automobiles. "If it's okay with you, I'll ride with Delia," Rilla said.
It was okay. He needed space to think about his emotions and what lay ahead for each of them.
They didn't go home. Delia didn't want to be alone. She said she would work through the upheavals of this day better if she spent it with her family. Mr. and Mrs. Eckert waited at the farm with a nice lunch for all of them. They gathered around the table while Mrs. Eckert served them cold beef sandwiches and potato salad.
"You have to eat more than that," Mrs. Eckert said, as Delia pushed a small spoonful of salad around her plate.
"I don't think I can, Mama."
Her mother eyed her. "Are you expecting?"
Delia's eyes shot up and down to her plate again. She shook her head. "I wish I was." It had ceased being a secret Delia and Theo wanted children, but something kept the miracle of conception from happening. Lang had begun to wonder if the problem lay with Theo. If Delia was anything like Rilla, she should be able to get pregnant without a thought. Maybe she needed a real man in her life. Rilla's hand touched his leg. At least he could look at Delia from time to time unnoticed while she sat across from them.
"God knew how difficult it would be for you and a baby alone with Theo being away. Maybe it's His mercy," Rilla said.
"Maybe." Delia didn't sound convinced. She sighed. "You can bet I'll be over to help you with your little ones while Theo's gone." She raised her eyes in a sad smile.
"Come, daughter. Lift your spirits," Mr. Eckert said. "Your husband is a brave man, willing to do his duty to his country. He must be assured you support him in his effort. A man cannot go to war without knowing that."
Her smile was weak. "I'll try, Daddy. Thank you." She lifted her fork to her mouth.
"I'm going to till up that field for the potatoes today, sir." Lang thought it best to steer the conversation to everyday things. "I replaced those broken tines the rocks took out on the harrow last spring."
With her elbow rested on the table, Delia's fork dangled from her fingers. "Maybe I'll follow and pick rocks."
"I'd welcome that. Are you sure you're up to it?"
"I need to keep busy. I can't think of anything that will wear me out more. If I'm to sleep tonight, it's best I find something to help me do it."
"I wish I could help," Rilla said.
Her mother frowned as she cut her sandwich into quarters. "You will not even think of lifting anything besides Emmett." Her frown changed to a smile at the boy in the high chair, and she picked up a towel to wipe applesauce off his cheeks.
"I guess I'll walk on home and start some wash. I could wait until tomorrow, but there's a nice enough breeze. I think it'll dry quickly today."
"Take the car," said Lang.
"I feel like a walk. If you don't want to drive it, I can come collect it later."
"Whatever you want."
After the meal, the women turned to cleaning up, while Lang headed outdoors. Mr. Eckert went to his workshop to sharpen his hoes and shovels on the grindstone. Lang heard him humming as he passed by on his way to hook up the plow. He was beginning his second turn around the edge of the new potato field when he looked up and saw Delia coming toward him. His heart swelled at the sight of her. She was the prettiest thing in the world. Her hair, left down but pinned at her temples, was like a halo with the afternoon sun behind her. The pretty, blue dress she'd worn to see Theo off was protected by a yellow pinafore apron. Tied at her narrow waist with ruffles at the shoulders, it accentuated her hips and bust, but he doubted she realized it. She was altogether a picture to feast his eyes upon, and he didn't bother avoiding the opportunity. She carried a bucket that must be just heavy enough to make her hips swing when she walked over the clumps of ground.
She hollered as she got close enough. "Where do all these rocks come from anyway?"
He grinned. "Devil sends 'em up as a way to keep us breaking our backs."
"But it does keep us busy, and wouldn't he want us to have idle hands? Idle hands being the devil's workshop and all?"
How lovely her smile looked, but he didn't want to draw her attention to it by mentioning how nice it was to see. He didn't want her to think about Theo just now. "Hm... that does beg the question."
He dropped the reins as she set down the pail in front of the horse. Water sloshed on the black earth and soaked into the ground, and the horse bent his head to drink. "I guess God must send them up to keep us out of trouble."
She stroked the mare's neck as the animal sucked up the water.
"Thank you. She's working up a thirst."
"I should have brought you something too."
"I'm all right. Later maybe." He reached into a wide, low-slung bag around his neck and pulled out a handful of grain.
"So you do spoil her."
He smiled. "She earns it." He rubbed a hand over the mare's shoulder, and her withers shivered.
Delia sighed. "It already seems forever."
"What does?"
"Theo being gone."
"He's gone with the railroad a lot."
"I know. But this is different."
"He won't be heading over there for a while. They have to train him first."
"That's true."
"You can pretend he's only in the Falls or Eau Claire or someplace."
"He will be in Eau Claire for a while with the 128th infantry."
He nodded. He knew. They all knew, but Delia needed to talk about it.
"I am thankful though, even if I don't show it." She settled a soft look on him. "At least I have family to lean upon."
"More than family. You know that, right?"
Her smile broadened. "Yes, Lang. I do."
"You can always count on me." He steadied his gaze. "I won't let you down."
"You promised Theo."
"I'm promising you. I'll be there for you, Delia. Every day. Count on it."
She broke her gaze and rubbed the mare's neck. The horse raised her chestnut head between them. "All right."
He'd said as much as he dared. He raised his voice and stepped back, ready to return to work. He picked up the reins. "Lunch tomorrow? Just like always?"
She picked up the empty pail and moved out of the way. "Sure."
He clicked his tongue at the horse, and the plow plunged into the earth. He moved past her in the furrow. Delia bobbed her head and turned to follow, setting the bucket clear of their work. He would plow as much as he could today, and each time he turned the horse he'd watch her working out there with him. The way it always should have been.
Chapter Seventeen
May 1917
Marilla finished her wash and hung it all on the line. She wished Lang understood the love that went into scrubbing his britches and long johns and putting them back in the bureau for him to pull out fresh. Darning his socks, laying out his razor and a fresh towel beside his toiletries, cooking the kind of meals he loved. All the things she did every day, things some wives thought of as work were, for her, opportunities to demonstrate her love. She sometimes wondered
if he had any clue of the depth of her passion and her need of him. She rubbed her lower, aching back with one hand and stroked her stomach with the other. She'd gladly give him this child and others to let him know he had all of her. Heart, body, and soul.
A slight voice inside reproved her thought. Only God deserved that much, but God had given her Lang, hadn't He? The very man who had been the desire of her heart since she was a child of fourteen, He had made her husband. She had taken Jacob's reminder to heart and turned her mind to praying. She prayed for Theo and Delia of course, for Lang, for herself, for their children, and she remembered Jacob in her prayers.
She picked up the empty clothes basket as the sound of an engine reached her. She came around the cabin just as Delia stepped away from the car. Her sister's dress, so pretty this morning at the train station, her hair so perfectly coifed beneath a wide-brimmed hat, her hands so soft and white, were all dirty. The hat had been put away hours before. Rilla strolled out to meet her. "You must have picked a lot of rocks."
Delia stretched. "Too many. My back is rebelling."
"I understand exactly how you feel."
Delia chuckled. "I suppose you do. Where's Emmett?"
"He's asleep. Come in. I'll make coffee."
"Sounds good. Can I stay for supper too?"
Rilla laughed. "Too tired to cook it sounds like. I guess you got your wish to wear yourself out."
"Yes, but mostly I just don't want to cook for myself. Not today. Maybe tomorrow I'll be ready to face that routine." Delia followed her up the stone walk. "Lang said he'd bring the automobile, so you don't have to walk back over to the house."
She had forgotten about the car and was relieved after her busy day and the promise she'd made earlier to go back for it. She left the empty clothesbasket outside the door and pumped a fresh pail of water. Carrying it inside, she poured some into the coffee pot on the stove. Then she checked on the wood burning in the stove box and added a chunk. "I'd better start frying the chicken. Lang will be starved."