by Kelly Long
Jacob walked rapidly to the haven of the barn and slid the door closed behind him as though he were being pursued. The horses nickered in greeting, but he couldn’t think straight enough to respond. Instead he leaned his back against the support of the wooden door and closed his eyes.
His head swam with half-worded prayers. He’d asked for Derr Herr’s help to choose to love his wife and then he’d called out for Sarah—on his wedding night. He tried again to grasp the dream, to rally his subconscious into some kind of obedience. But he couldn’t remember, and Lilly had said she couldn’t forget.
He expelled a breath of surrender. What had she said about his will? It was not his will that could work in all of this, but the Lord’s.
He opened Buttercup’s stall and greeted her with the back of his curled hand. Then he touched her gently on her withers. And she yielded to his touch. His gentle touch. Yield. He needed to learn how to yield to the Lord in the same way his horses learned to yield to the touch of his fingers—even those secret parts of his mind that seemed so far out of reach. Even his dreams needed to fall into the trust of the Lord.
CHAPTER 24
D espite how the day began, Lilly was having more fun than she could remember in years. She and Jacob were at the Wyse home for Christmas Eve supper. Mr. and Mrs. Stolis had been some of the many guests she’d received at her own home during the day, but they’d also offered to stay with her mother a bit, who actually seemed like she was up to having visitors. Lilly didn’t ponder this shift in her mamm’s moods; she’d grown used to their unpredictability. But she considered every moment of the time at her new in-laws’ a blessing and smiled with determined warmth at Jacob when he glanced up from a chattering Kate Zook. He returned the look and she chose to interpret the intensity in his gaze as goodwill. Then she found herself in the cheerful embrace of her brother-in-law.
“Having a gut time?” Seth asked, dropping his arms about her waist.
“Ach, jah.” She smiled up into his handsome face, thinking to herself once more how different the two brothers were—like light and darkness.
She leaned close to Seth and whispered low. “I loved the painting. Danki.”
“Ah, my secret’s out.”
She shook her head. “I’d never tell anyone, but I would love to see more of your work.”
“Would you?” he asked with a smile.
She nodded with sincerity and he caught her hand. “Then come with me, sweet schweschder, and I’ll be glad to indulge you—away from this crowd.”
She followed happily as Seth led her upstairs.
“I’ve been working on something a bit different. It’s for Jacob’s birthday. The motion is difficult to get right.” He flung open a door and she entered the room, clearly seeing that it was more of an art studio than a bedroom, with paints, brushes, canvases, and tools in great abundance. He turned up a lamp, then held it before an easel. She gasped with pleasure at the half-formed image of a herd of horses running free across a vast plain.
“Ach, Seth! It’s beautiful. It’s like they’re running toward me. I can hear their hoofbeats. You’ve been blessed with such talent.”
He smiled with obvious pleasure. “Danki. I haven’t been sure of this one.”
“Jacob will love it. But, tell me please, when is his birthday?”
Seth set the lamp on a table. “Not until February—Valentine’s Day, in fact.”
I should have remembered, she thought. she’d once sketched him a valentine when they were in school but had never had the courage to give it to him. It had ended up in the waste bin. She glanced back at the painting.
“Seth, I know you don’t want anyone to know about your talent, but it would be so wonderful if you’d teach a class on art, maybe to the schoolchildren?”
He held up paint-stained hands. “Whoa, little schweschder. That is not my kind of doings. Kinner scare me. I never know what they’re going to do.”
She laughed. It was so easy to be with him, so simple and comforting. With Jacob, she always felt like she was walking blindfolded, always taking a misstep with him.
“What are you thinking?”
She lifted her shoulders. “Just how different you and Jacob are.”
“Are we?”
“Surely.”
She watched him run an absent finger around the rim of a paint container.
“How?”
“What?” she asked.
“How are we different?”
“Well, you’re fun and cheerful, but you’ve got this whole other serious side to you in your art. And Jacob—Jacob’s like a storm, unpredictable, moving. I guess you’d know even better than me.”
“I know my brother; he’s part of my heart. But he can be distant as the munn. Sometimes too far away to touch.”
“Jah,” she agreed, her smile tight.
“But touch matters.”
His tone was level but she felt drawn by his words. It was as if he understood the struggles she had—her insecurities and her fears about whether she’d ever truly be able to be close to her husband.
But there was something else—a flash of intensity in his blue eyes—as he half turned from her.
She stepped closer to him, laying a hand on his white sleeve. “Seth?”
He drew a deep breath. “Don’t listen to me, Lilly. I think I’m half crazy. I love my brother.”
“Of course you do,” she soothed, watching him swallow, the strong line of his throat tan against his white collar.
“Of course I do. But he can be hurtful sometimes. Even if he doesn’t mean it.”
She sighed. “Well, jah, I guess you’re right about that.”
“Has he hurt you, Lilly?”
She had to turn away from him and blink at the sudden tears that filled her eyes, but she shook her head. “Nee.”
She felt him touch her shoulders gently. “Lilly?”
She wanted to turn at the tenderness in his voice, to press herself against him and cry for what she was—insecure, wounded, and second-best. But to allow herself even that comfort would be disloyal to Jacob, so she stood, frozen.
His hand stroked the length of her back, tangible warmth she could feel and trust.
“Ach, Seth,” she whispered in misery.
He moved, quick and fluid, to encircle her with his long arms and to press her against his chest. She heard his heartbeat and smelled the fresh cotton of his shirt as he reached his hand to find and soothe the tenseness at the back of her neck.
“I thought I could do it,” she sobbed after a moment.
“Do what?”
She felt him begin to rock her in his arms, his dark clad legs steady and sure.
“To accept it . . . you know? That Sarah was . . . is . . . his first love. But I can’t. He warned me the night of the engagement that it would be hard, but I didn’t listen and now—” She lifted her tearstained face to look at him and he bent his head to brush his mouth against her cheek.
“Shhh . . . Lilly, don’t. Don’t do this to yourself.”
She swallowed, feeling foolish that she’d been so happy one minute and had now turned into a watering pot. “I’m sorry, Seth.” She sniffed and would have drawn back when Jacob’s voice arrested her from the doorway.
“Hiya. Do I interrupt?”
CHAPTER 25
Jacob watched his brother holding his wife with a detached fury that surprised him in its intensity. He leaned against the doorjamb and spoke in a soft voice.
“Seth, I ought to whip your back raw for this. Go downstairs. Now.”
“She needed comfort, Jacob. Something you’re not willing to give.”
“You’ve got about five seconds.”
Seth slid his arms from around Lilly with visible reluctance. “Fine. You work this out, Jacob—if you can.” He brushed past and Jacob had to restrain himself from laying hands on him.
He closed the door quietly, then turned to face her. She didn’t look guilty, only sad, and he felt a renewed stab of se
lf-recrimination and anger that he couldn’t give her the easy comfort that Seth could. Then his prayers came back to him, and he felt Derr Herr speak deep inside. Choose. Decide. Decide to give.
He pushed off the wood of the door and came to stand in front of her. She had her arms crossed protectively against her chest and her blue eyes swam with tears.
He drew a deep breath. “My brother can gain anyone’s admiration; he’s quick-witted, even-tempered, talented—but, sometimes, in a way, he makes me feel like an old man. I’ve always thought that I had to be stronger, more cautious, and more serious—to protect him somehow.”
He reached out to thumb away a stray tear that spilled down her cheek.
“I don’t want to be all those things with you, Lilly. I want to be alive, to breathe, to be real.” He trailed his hand down to rub the fine bones of her wrist, her tears dampening her soft skin. “Oh, Lilly . . . what was it your primer said? Touch?” He drew his finger across her stiff arms, then back up to trace the gentle curve of her shoulder. He stepped closer, thankful that she didn’t retreat.
He used the back of his hand to cross her damp cheek, feather across her brows, then come back again to test the delicate bones of her arms.
He thought how small and refined she seemed for all of her slender height. She was a lady in so many ways, and she would, of course, be drawn to culture like Seth’s art. He broke off the thought and gently reached both arms around her, not holding—waiting.
“I’m not Seth, Lilly. But I can give,” he whispered.
He watched the indecision in her eyes, the haunting drift between his betrayal and her want. Then she spoke clearly and broke the circle of his arms.
“And I’m not Sarah, Jacob.”
She wiped her sleeve across her eyes and made for the door, the sound of her footsteps echoing in his mind like stones thrown far away.
She hadn’t taken more than five steps into the hall when she felt her heart convict her for crying out to Seth, and not God—nor to Jacob. She remembered the quilting vision she’d had the night of the engagement and thought how far she’d drifted from that message in her life. And she knew she was trying to get away from that message when a dark part of herself began to whisper that she’d not even had a wedding quilting. Her feet found the top of the stairs of their own accord and she gripped the carved banister. What did a wedding quilt matter? What did it prove? That she was legitimately married? Well, she knew she was, and she’d just dishonored her husband with his own brother, no matter what her intent. The Lord had given her the idea to work to create something in life with Jacob. She felt like running back to the room and letting him hold her, but she couldn’t. Not when she remembered his hoarse cry of Sarah’s name and her resolve. She prayed that God would help her release her insecurity and found herself at the bottom of the steps.
If Mary Wyse knew there was something wrong, she gave Lilly no indication as she caught her arm and encouraged her to walk with her into the main room.
“Uncle Sebastian is telling stories—he’s Samuel’s uncle, really. He runs a logging outfit deep in the mountains and normally only comes down to have a visit at First Christmas. He’s a character, but we all love him. You’ll have to see.”
Lilly smiled, hoping her face wasn’t blotchy from her tears. She didn’t see Seth anywhere and wandered in the direction her mother-in-law pointed her.
Lilly gathered close with other visiting aentis, uncles, and cousins, who listened with merry enjoyment as Uncle Sebastian regaled them with tales from the woods. The man was probably about seventy and, to her surprise, appeared to be partially blind in his foggy blue eyes. But his gnarled hands moved with certainty to accept the glass of milk and plate of gingerbread cookies that a cousin brought him. Lilly knew that here was a man who had experienced much of life and had endured, like the mountains he came from.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smiled, and recalled another tale. Lilly could see that everyone around her waited with pleasure for his words, even the adolescents who would normally keep to their own side of the room. Insolent Kate Zook also seemed momentarily transfixed.
“Ach, I was just reminded of the time one summer that me and the boys took a trip away to the Ice Mine . . . but you all probably know this one.”
He was met with a chorus of protests and Lilly began to listen, loving the oral storytelling traditions of her people. Uncle Sebastian stroked his beard.
“Jah, it’s always a wonder to me to visit that place. Now the Englisch, some of them call an ice mine a freak of nature, but that’s not quite right because it is not an actual mine. It’s really a deep shaft, put there by the Lord, I guess. When the ice formations appear during the spring of the year and continue through the hot weather, folks around can have fresh ice. But it’s a funny thing—the shaft goes dry in winter; perhaps Derr Herr figures we’ve got enough ice on the ground then. The last time I went, me and the boys saw huge icicles measuring about as big around as a strong man’s arm. The ice is real pretty too, clear and sparkling . . .”
“Oh,” Lilly spoke up from back in the group. “How was this place found? It sounds lovely.”
“Ach, well, a new voice . . .” He paused, then raised his voice. “And Jacob, you grow stronger every year. When will you leave your horses, eh, and bring that broad back up to the timber?”
Jacob laughed as Lilly noticed that her husband had drifted close. “I give my word we’ll come for a visit this summer, sir,” he said.
“Ach, I forget so easily—it’s ‘we’ who’ll be coming, but I hear that your Sarah married another man.”
There was a distinct pause in the conversation around them, and Lilly tried to look normal as Jacob caught her eye in the sudden stillness. “I’ve recently come to realize that each woman is her own . . . not a man’s to be had.”
Lilly tried to ignore the feeling of chagrin his words produced and pulled nervously at her kapp string.
Uncle Sebastian pursed his weathered lips in thought. “So, did I miss a wedding or not?”
The family moved as Jacob reached his long arm through the small group to catch Lilly’s hand and pull her forward, directly in front of the man.
“My bride, Uncle Sebastian, Lilly Wyse.”
Lilly had to ignore the warmth of Jacob’s hand on her own and focused instead on the strange feeling that she was being studied deeply . . . not just by the bleary eyes of the older man but somehow further. The expression “sight beyond sight” drifted across her consciousness as she stood in patience.
Uncle Sebastian put down his milk and cookie and held out a hand to her. She took it readily as Jacob let her go.
“Ahh,” he murmured. “Now, here is one who is like my Rachel was. Hair dark as the shadows of a glen, eyes like hidden pools, and strong, jah, but a strength that yields—bends, but never breaks. You have chosen well, Jacob, but she lacks one thing.”
Lilly had colored under the pointed remarks and hoped he wouldn’t comment on her need for children. But he laughed, and she stared at him.
“Nee, my daughter, it is not the kinner that you want for, because I can see that they dance about you like drops of sunlight through the pines. Nee, you lack for something else, something even more precious. Do you know what it is, Jacob?”
Lilly felt the eyes of all turn to her husband, and she watched, knowing he was mentally sifting through answers.
Uncle Sebastian laughed again and tugged on her hand with remarkable strength. She leaned forward and bent close to him, breathing in the smells of the mountains and fresh air. “I will tell you, my beauty, because perhaps the Lord has not revealed it yet to you.”
Lilly caught her breath and bent closer as the old man whispered a single word in her ear. She drew back a bit and stared into the wise eyes and felt tears come to her throat.
“Nee, no crying now, not on the eve of the Savior’s birth.” He patted her hand. “But you remember and perhaps let your Jacob know when you’ve found it, will you?
”
She kissed his weathered cheek. “Jah, I promise.” She wondered if the man could see her heart and knew how distant Jacob seemed to her.
But Uncle Sebastian let her go and began another tale.
She slipped away from the group. Jacob followed and caught her arm as she moved toward the kitchen to help Mamm Wyse.
“What did he say?”
Lilly shook her head. “I cannot tell you.”
Jacob frowned. “He didn’t say that.”
“Nee, but I know it just the same. I’ve got to go and help your mamm.”
She slipped from him, knowing he stared after her, and went to the fragrant and bustling kitchen to join the other women of her new family.
Lilly concentrated on stirring the pot of cider to circulate the many good spices that had been added to the fragrant brew. She was lost in her own thoughts until the familiar sound of a girl’s voice cut across her consciousness with sharp tones. She glanced over one shoulder to see Mrs. Zook hustling Kate into the adjacent pantry, and tried not to listen. But it was difficult when both mother and daughter’s voices were so loud and strained.
“I told you, Kate, keep your voice down. You’ll make fools of us as you make a fool of yourself by taking up with this Englischer.”
“I don’t care what you say, Mamm. Tommy Granger is nothing like his father. He hates his father, and I’m tired of playing second fiddle to a bunch of whey-faced girls who have no right to be married at all.”
Lilly noticed the other women out of the corner of her eye and saw that they, too, overheard. She stirred harder, blinking back tears of frustration. Kate’s whey-faced comment was not-so-subtly directed at her.
Her mother-in-law had obviously had enough and marched through the group to the pantry to speak in low, fast Penn Dutch. Then, there was a sudden silence and Kate ran from the small room to snatch her cloak from a peg and disappear outside. Mrs. Zook emerged, appearing as though she’d aged, and Lilly felt a moment’s compassion for her. It could not be easy to manage a headstrong girl like Kate.