The Deepest Sigh

by Naomi Musch

  The first thing she saw was Jacob's car parked along the road. Her spirits lifted. He had promised not to abandon her. What had he said; that he would remain her close friend? Surely he meant more than that. She needed what he'd promised. All of it. When Lang shut off the car, she pushed the door open and hurried out with Bertie before he could come around to assist her. She turned to look after Dora, but Lang had taken her out the other side of the car. Her breath quickened when he came around the car beside her. They walked together into the church, for all the world looking like a whole family. Only she knew they weren't. They were as broken as broken could be. She scanned the sanctuary, and when she saw Jacob, she gave him a tiny nod and a small smile.

  "Shall we sit here?" Lang directed her into a pew. She moved in past him and sat down. To her relief, he placed Dora between them.

  Marilla relaxed once the service began, giving her more space to be alone with her thoughts, and from where they sat, she could glimpse Jacob and draw strength from his presence. When she considered how his being there calmed her, she felt ashamed. Hadn't she learned months ago, when everything first fell apart, that it was God upon whom she should depend? But God had sent Jacob.

  Once she glanced at Lang, unable to read anything in his expression. He seemed to be listening but also appeared far away. She frowned and looked around again. Her parents sat near the front, not far from Jacob, but Delia and Theo weren't there. Maybe that was the reason for Lang's faraway look. He had hoped to see her sister in church.

  When Bertie began to fuss midway through the sermon, she rose to excuse herself from the remainder of the service. Dora wanted to go along, so she took her by the hand.

  Lang moved aside to let them pass. "I'll meet you outside after," he whispered.

  She gave him a curt nod and left. She could just go downstairs to feed the baby, but with a beautiful summer day inviting her into the outdoors, she headed toward their car. Deep breaths freed her further. She focused on her children for the next few minutes and forgot the turmoil of both Lang and Jacob being there, each disturbing her in different ways. By the time the service ended, Bertie was full, and she'd taken him and Dora out to romp on the grass. Marilla kept an eye on the doorway as the congregation exited. When Jacob stepped into the sunshine, she folded her hands and waited near the curb until he walked toward her.

  Sunlight had bleached his hair a brighter blond like it always did in the summer. Jacob's face was not much tanned, but his smile was warm. "He came with you. That's good," he said by way of greeting.

  "Is it? I'm not sure."

  "Some men return from war and want nothing to do with God after what they've experienced. We can be thankful such hardness has not overtaken your husband."

  "I don't know if he came because of God."

  "Oh?"

  Marilla adjusted Bertie on her hip. They had never spoken about the cause of her and Lang's troubles. "He came to see someone. At least, I think he did." She brushed something imaginary off Bertie's cheek rather than look at Jacob. "Lang hasn't been faithful to me—not in his heart at least."

  Jacob glanced toward the exiting parishioners, seeming to speculate over Marilla's certainty. Then he brought his gaze back to her, his blue eyes penetrating. "How about you, Marilla? Why did you come?"

  She frowned. Why not admit it? "I came to see you. I'm too”—she gestured with her hands—“on edge to pray." She glanced up again and saw Lang exiting the church doors. He noticed them and started down the steps, his gait casual. Jacob didn't respond to Marilla's comment, but straightened and waited for Lang to reach them.

  Lang nodded a greeting. "We see you again, Jacob."

  Jacob shook Lang's hand. "Good morning. It is good to see you've brought Marilla and the children to church."

  Did she imagine it, or was Jacob studying Lang. Did Jacob expect to purge some truth from her husband? To understand why he had really come there with her, or to read what it was he felt toward Marilla and him?

  Lang chuckled, but it sounded humorless. "It doesn't hurt me any either. I could use a little more Bible in my life, I suppose." He gave a sudden, brief smile to Marilla. She looked away at Dora.

  "Yes, we could all use that," Jacob said.

  When she looked at them again, they measured one another. Lang turned to her. "Well, Rilla, have you decided? I wouldn't mind a drive into Spooner. It's a nice day, and I think the leftovers could wait one more day, couldn't they?"

  "I—"

  "I had best be going too." Jacob cut off her excuse. "I thought to do some of my laundry today." He glanced at Marilla. "If you come to town this week, I have a new ladies' catalog you may wish to look at."

  She flushed, wishing the opportunity to go to his store were today. "I will try to find time to come in and see it."

  Lang touched his hat in farewell and laid a gentle grip on her elbow. The touch sent shock waves through her. "Maybe we'll both come by."

  Jacob's smile looked stiff. "I will look forward to that."

  ~~~~~

  Life had continued without him during the past year. Rilla had become a more independent woman than he would have ever thought. She had grown determined and confident, and she was no longer infatuated with him. Meanwhile, Jacob had stepped into Lang's place and looked out for her, that much was obvious. Wasn't that just as Lang had wished it to be? Hadn't he wanted Jacob to care for Rilla and her for him? Hadn't that been his plan so that he could be free without guilt to go away with Delia? Now it seemed things between Rilla and Jacob had worked out more than he thought they could—or maybe he hadn't considered the outcome hard enough.

  They were quiet for much of the drive to Spooner, each lost in their own thoughts. He peeked at her, staring down the road but maybe not seeing. Was she thinking of her future visit to see Jacob's catalog? Yeah, catalog. Right. What did the two of them talk about when they were together? What did they laugh about? To think of her laughing with another man galled him; yet, why should it?

  "You love him." He hadn't planned to speak, but the words came out.

  Her head swiveled toward him, her eyes widened with a flash of blue. "What?"

  "Jacob." He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and spoke over Dora's head. "You love him."

  She jerked her gaze away again and blinked. "No."

  "He loves you then."

  She turned again, and he hoped that she would argue, but she didn't. She nodded. "Yes. He loves me. He loves my children—your children."

  "He wants you to take up with him then."

  "He is not that kind of man."

  "He isn't?" Lang adjusted the throttle lever to slow the car, allowing himself more opportunity to look at her. Tears lay on her lashes, and she blinked at them. His chest tightened.

  When she turned her eyes to him again, he thought he might drown in them. Then her answer came out, and her eyes filled with an ocean of bitterness. "No, he isn't. And I am not that kind of woman. I am not the kind of woman you wanted me to be, not now, not ever. And I am not Delia."

  "Is that what you think? I want you to be Delia?"

  "You know it's true."

  Lang readjusted the throttle. He had wanted her to be her sister. His throat felt like sandpaper. "Look, Rilla—"

  "Jacob is a godly man. He has been there for me when you were not. He has taken care of us while you were away—"

  "I bet."

  "Stop it!"

  Lang jerked the steering wheel and pulled to the side of the road. Rilla had placed a hand over her face. Dora began to cry. "You want to be with him?" The question grated out of him.

  Her words were sobs, muffled. He couldn't understand them. He waited until she lowered her hand, sniffing and dashing at her tears. She bounced Bertie, although he was asleep.

  When he thought she was listening, he said what he had never expected to say. "Rilla...I'm sorry." She turned her face away toward the field alongside the road, avoiding him. He went on, admitting it all. "I've been lousy, I know that. If yo
u want Jacob..." He looked down at Dora whose crying had grown louder. "Shh... It's okay, honey. Don't cry." He patted the child’s shoulder and kissed the top of her head. Rilla stirred. She looked his way for a moment, casting him a glare.

  When she turned away again, she shook her head, but he couldn't see her face. Did it mean she didn't want Jacob, or was she simply beyond caring? Was she refusing his apology? He scratched his brow and accelerated again onto the road. How had he let himself do all this to her? He was the worst kind of man.

  They arrived in Spooner with a barrier of silence between them. Two people and two small children in their care, but with no apparent relationship with one another. He wanted to bang his head against the wall. What was wrong with him anyway? The spark he had always felt toward Delia had dimmed, as his visit with her and Theo had proved. He had felt release when he rode away from her. Was it because deep inside, he belonged to Rilla? Even if he hadn't always, he did now, right?

  Entering one of Spooner's small diners, a waitress sat them at a small square table near a window. The place had filled up with Sunday visitors and a few travelers who would have to await the next train to their destinations. The clatter of dishes and hum of the small crowd helped him to relax despite the sharpness between them. He took the baby from Rilla's arms while she arranged herself in her chair.

  "I'll keep him," he said, when she reached to take him back. The baby was wide awake now and gurgled with contentment. "He's not much like Emmett, is he?"

  The edge fell away from Rilla's expression, and she shook her head. "He's going to be bigger, I think. Busy like Emmett was though."

  Lang squared himself to the infant and lifted him up to look in his eyes. Brown eyes like his own darted about, and drool spilled over his fist. Lang smiled. "You're going to be a farmer, aren't you? Just like dad." He kissed Bertie and tucked him against his body. He looked across the table at Rilla. "I know you miss him. I do too."

  She looked back at him but didn't respond.

  "I knew a boy over there. He was grown of course, but barely. He reminded me..." His throat tightened, and his eyes burned. After he regained control, he went on. "He reminded me of Emmett, what Emmett might grow to be like anyway."

  "Where is he now?"

  Lang shrugged and looked away out the window. He hadn't meant to talk about him. He just wanted to forget those days in that wasted land. The waitress returned with the coffee pot and poured them each a cup, giving Lang the courage to answer. "I held him while he died."

  "Thank you." Marilla nodded at the waitress.

  "His name was Dickie."

  Her gaze returned, trapping his, and for the first time in days he saw something there he hadn't seen since coming home. Empathy perhaps. Bertie reached up and touched his chin, drawing his attention. Lang bounced him on his knee and took his little fist in his hand, kissing it.

  He looked back at Rilla again, and she lowered her gaze. She took a sip of her coffee, keeping any thoughts she might have had inside.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Marilla smoothed the clean sheet into place and stepped back from the bed. She raised her eyes to the window. Lang was out there pounding away. She stepped nearer the window but off to the side where she wouldn't be seen as she peered out. What was he up to? He knelt by the foundation of the house they had planned so long to build, nailing two-by-fours together. Was he really beginning the frame? She had pretty much given up on them ever building the house. Lang had dilly-dallied at first, then he went away to war, and now she expected him to leave her, if not for Delia, then out of their mutual brokenness. Maybe he was biding his time, or... Was this his way of putting some sort of feet to his apology? She sighed and turned away. It didn't matter. The effort was too little, too late anyway.

  She finished making the bed, folded a basket of clean laundry, and then put their things away. Bertie started fussing, so she slipped off her apron and picked him up to feed him. All the while the pounding continued. "Maybe we'll go have a visit with Auntie Dee." She kissed Bertie's downy head. Yes, she didn't want to sit here listening to the sound of the hammering. After she finished nursing, Marilla gathered the children together and headed out the door with the thought of driving off, leaving Lang to wonder, but her conscience pricked her, and she backtracked around the cabin.

  "Lang."

  He ceased pounding and looked up. Their words had been so few and at times so harsh, it felt strange to have anything to say. "I'm going away for a little bit. Dinner is in the oven. I'll be home before it's ready to eat."

  He stared back at her, and she could sense that he wanted to ask her where she was going, but he didn't, so she lifted her chin and walked away. She did not intend to ever use her sister's name in his presence again. Let him wonder where she was headed.

  At Delia's house, she was surprised to find Theo leaning against their motorcar with his head over the engine and his hands full of grease. One leg dangled, missing below the knee. His pant leg was pinned up over the stump, and a crutch supported him under his arm. He braced himself against it and gave her a wave, saying Delia was in the garden. True to his word, Delia kneeled between rows in the kitchen garden Theo's brother had turned for her on the south side of the house. It wasn't a large garden, but roomy enough to provide some fresh vegetables for the two of them. Delia's face appeared from beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat. She came to her feet and brushed the dirt from her hands.

  "Rilla! This is a surprise."

  Marilla let go of Dora's hand and hiked Bertie up on her hip. "It's mighty warm to be working in the garden this time of day."

  Delia swiped off her hat and ran a wrist across her forehead, streaking it with a band of dirt. "It sure is. I don't know what I was thinking." She stepped around the gate.

  "Theo's working on your car."

  Delia nodded, smiling at the surprise in Marilla's voice. "Yes, he's trying so hard. It'll be nice when he gets his peg. He's determined to do so many of the things he used to."

  "Good for him. If anyone can do it, Theo can."

  Delia used her hat to brush dirt from her skirt. "Come on inside. I brewed some iced tea this morning and put it in the icebox. It should be cool by now."

  Rilla sat down at the kitchen table, holding Bertie while Dora plopped down on the floor to play with a bowl and spoons that Delia gave her. Delia poured them each a glass of tea and took another chair at the table.

  "That's good. Just barely sweet enough."

  "You and your sweet tooth." Delia chuckled. "Haven't you outgrown it yet?"

  "I doubt I ever will. I'm so glad sugar is in good supply again."

  "How are you doing, Rilla, with Lang being home? I mean, how are you doing really?"

  Leave it to Delia not to beat around the bush. Yet, that was why Marilla had come, hadn't she? To talk? She tipped her head first one way and then the other.

  "Not good then?"

  She shrugged. "Not bad, but no, not good. I don't know what he's planning to do."

  "He hasn't told you?"

  She shook her head. "Uh-uh. He's been outside working on the frame for the house today, but what does it mean?"

  "Sounds like he's staying. He told Theo he was going to help him build a barn this fall after the potato harvest."

  This was news to Marilla. She frowned. "He's spoken to Theo?"

  "You didn't know? He stopped by late last week. The day after he got home, if I remember right."

  Of course. He must have needed to go to Delia. The iced tea suddenly felt sickening in the pit of her stomach. "No. I didn't know." She brushed at a non-existent dust speck on Bertie's clothes. "You talked to him too, I suppose."

  Delia didn't answer right away. She sipped on her tea and set the glass down before she looked at Marilla. "Not really. I meant to. I followed him when he was leaving. I thought it best to face him directly—about the letter, I mean."

  Marilla's gut twisted further.

  "He said the strangest thing." Delia made small swirls o
n the tablecloth with her index finger. "He said 'I hope you can forget it,' and then he rode away." She stilled.

  "I don't understand."

  "Neither did I. He acted so...so different. At first, I thought maybe he just didn't want to talk about it, or maybe he was embarrassed because sometimes men think crazy things when they're in dangerous situations like he was over there. I don't know." Delia gave a heavy shrug. "Yet"—her eyes warmed on Marilla.—“he seemed changed, Rilla. I think he truly just wanted it put behind him."

  Marilla's heart leapt, but she squashed the notion. No, Lang had hung onto his hopes for years. He wasn't going to let them go so sudden. "I imagine he's just waiting for opportunity, Delia."

  "Opportunity? For what? He could have said—"

  "No. Opportunity for you to tire of taking care of Theo." She glanced toward the kitchen door as if Theo might come in at any moment.

  Delia's face contorted, and color rose in her cheeks. "That will never happen! I love my husband! And Theo doesn't need 'taking care of'. Not really. Not anymore. He's a man! A complete man!" She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest.

  "I know that, Delia. I know. But Lang? I don't believe he thinks of it that way."

  Delia leaned forward again, reaching for Marilla. She gripped her forearm. "I think you're wrong about Lang, but it doesn't matter. He'll understand, in time, if he doesn't already. I think he's happy for Theo and me. Things could work out for you still, if you let them."

  Marilla dropped her gaze and shook her head. "I'm making plans, Delia. I don't believe in Lang anymore."

  Tears rose in Delia's eyes. "Don't say that, Rilla."

  "I have to."

  Delia shook her head. "But what kind of plans? What will you do?"

  "I don't know yet. I'll figure something out."

  Delia pulled her into an embrace with the baby between them. She spoke in a choked whisper. "I'm sorry."

  So what if Lang hadn't made his intentions to Delia known? He might want to put his heart-felt letter to her sister behind, but that didn't mean Marilla could. She stiffened her back and her heart. She wasn't about to let Lang pull the rug out from under her again.