Jacob's Return

by Annette Blair

  Jacob climbed the stairs beside Rachel, unable to forget the sight of her and Simon embracing. He still didn’t trust his brother. But he should try, especially now, since Simon had given him reason. He’d been good with Aaron and just now he’d been better with Rachel.

  But how long would it last?

  Jacob worried that his jealousy colored his thinking. Should he go away and leave them be, or stay to protect Rachel?

  He could howl in frustration.

  But somebody else was howling right now. Esther. And he needed to set his mind to delivering this baby.

  Rachel touched his arm. “I’m sorry I got you into this Jacob. I … I couldn’t do it without you.”

  His frustration evaporated in the face of her need. “As it happened, a girl where Miriam worked went into labor and no one would help, so … since I’d delivered calves—”

  “Why wouldn’t anyone help her?”

  “Because she was a dance hall girl, Mudpie, like Miriam.”

  “Was the baby all right?”

  “He was noisy and healthy.”

  “Oh, Jacob, I’m glad they had you.” Her face lit up. “I’m glad I have you. You have delivered a baby!”

  “Come,” Jacob said. “Let’s go help Es.”

  He sent Rache to make pads out of newspaper to put under Esther. He needed a pan for the afterbirth. Some string. She needed direction, someone to take over. And part of him needed her away for a bit, so he could overcome the part of him that wanted to snatch her up and never let her go.

  Esther’s labor progressed at the speed of sap dripping from a maple tree. She called her dead husband’s name over and over, as if Daniel might hear and come for her. His name became her litany as her pains came close and strong.

  Still no baby.

  After two hours, she called Daniel less often.

  Jacob shook his head, checking the baby’s progress. “Rachel, you stand here and see if you can see the head when it comes.” If you’re up there, Daniel, we could use some help here, Jacob thought, as they changed places.

  “I’m afraid, Jacob,” Rachel said.

  He gave them both courage by taking her into his arms for a minute. “You up to this? It’s not too much in your condition?”

  “I need to help, so Es will be all right. I’ll watch, like you said. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to feel her stomach to see if I can tell if the baby’s bottom first. I might need to turn it.” As if he knew how. “You all right, Es?”

  Her pasty-white face glistening with perspiration, eyes closed, she didn’t answer. He dabbed at the moisture, put a wet towel on her forehead. “You with me Es?”

  She turned her head away. She was giving up. As Jacob ran his hand along her stomach, it hardened, rose, held, then lowered.

  Esther’s moan was weak, her cry for Daniel weaker still.

  Panic filled Rachel’s wide eyes. “Is it turned?”

  He shook his head. “I wish to God I could tell.” The realization that this was how Miriam died hit Jacob hard. Had she called his name like Es was doing? Until she died?

  Jacob held back the pain trying to take over his entire being for imagining it.

  Miriam was lost to him, he reminded himself. Esther was not. And by God, he’d do better by Es. By God he would.

  Filled with determination, Jacob placed his hands flat against the top of Esther’s belly. When the next contraction came, he pushed.

  “Daniel!” Esther screamed.

  Rachel’s smile dazzled. “I see the head! I see it … no, it’s gone.” Worry replaced happiness.

  “That’s good. Let’s see if the baby can take over from here.” Jacob knelt by Esther and took her hand, kissed it. “Es, can you hear me? It’s me, Daniel.” He saw Rachel’s shock, ignored it.

  Esther opened her eyes and turned her head as if it was almost too heavy. “You trying to spook me, Jacob?’

  He let out his breath. “No, but I would have been, if you’d believed me. I would have pretended though, to get this baby born. Daniel’s with you. He’s watching and waiting. Don’t give up, Es. He left you a great gift. Just like Miriam did me.”

  “I’m gonna be ...” A contraction took her and Esther flowed with it, better than she had been. That’s what she needed to keep doing, going with it, instead of away from it. She needed to care about life.

  “Did you see the head that time, Mudpie?” he asked.

  “For a minute.” Rachel nodded with relief.

  “Good. We’re closer.”

  “I’m gonna be like you,” Esther finished. “All alone to raise a child, with no-one to share the joy, or the worry. It must be lonely at times, Jacob ...” She went with another contraction.

  “Push, Es.”

  “I can’t, Jacob. I’m tired. Too tired. If God cared, he’d take us both to be with Daniel. It’s what I want.”

  “Dammit, Esther!” Jacob shouted. “Push. For Daniel! For me.”

  Esther reacted as if she’d been slapped, but when the next contraction came, she pushed with every bit of strength she could gather. And she screamed just as hard.

  Rachel screamed, too, as the new life slipped into her hands. She cried and laughed holding up a bloody, bawling scrap of humanity. “It’s a boy, Es.”

  “Daniel Jacob,” Esther said. “Because you made me do it, Jacob. I needed to do it for Daniel, like you said. For you, too.”

  Rachel placed little Daniel Jacob in Esther’s arms, the cowl of birth still on him.

  Esther touched her son’s cheek as he looked at her with wide, dark eyes. “He’s beautiful. I don’t know how I’ll raise him alone, but I’ll manage.” Esther smiled. “Guess I have to.”

  Jacob nodded, clearing his throat of emotion. “Let me have him so Rachel can tie and cut the cord.”

  Rachel squeaked. “Me? I can’t cut into this fleshy thing.” She touched the cord and pulled back. “It’s alive.”

  “It won’t hurt him.”

  “Don’t make me, Jacob. I need you to do it.”

  She shouldn’t depend on him like this all the time. This was how she had always looked to him for support, for answers … for love. She had Simon to look to now … for everything.

  Esther had no one. And she needed a father for her son, Jacob thought.

  He needed a mother for his children and a wife for himself.

  He could do now for Esther what he could not for Miriam.

  He could atone.

  And wouldn’t it be best, especially for Rachel and Simon, and the baby — for so many of them — if he started fresh?

  Jacob tied the string around the cord then cut above it.

  Rachel and Simon needed to make their marriage work. And he needed to let them.

  He traded places with Rachel so he could take Esther’s hand and prepare her for discomfort. He told Rachel how to deliver the afterbirth, saw the surprised look on her face when it slid into the pan she held. “I’ll bury it later,” he said.

  Ruben came rushing into the room his back to the bed. “Couldn’t one of you come and tell me what was happening? I was going out of my mind down there!”

  “Where’s Emma?” Jacob asked.

  Ruben did not turn toward him or the bed. “Your Datt’s got her, Jacob.” Ruben looked at the pan of afterbirth and turned white. He grabbed the bureau to keep himself from keeling over, but he almost lost the fight when he looked at the bloody baby Rachel was washing. “Esther?” he asked, voice atremble.

  “Esther’s fine, Ruben,” Rachel said.

  A few minutes passed before Ruben could look at Esther. “I’m glad you didn’t die, Es.”

  “I wanted to.”

  Ruben sat by the bed. “I know how that feels.”

  “But Esther’s strong, Ruben, like all the Zook women. Special. And she’s worried about raising this baby alone. I think ...” Jacob looked from Esther to Rachel and thought his heart might break.

  Both women questioned him with their loo
ks.

  He cleared his throat. Dear God, let me do the right thing. He sat on Esther’s bed and took her hand. “I’m glad you didn’t die too, Es. Feel better about being alive now?”

  She nodded. “With such a beautiful baby, how could I not?”

  “You did good,” Jacob said. “Daniel’s grinning down right now. Your mama, too.”

  Silent tears slid down Esther’s face. She really was special. Beautiful too, in a different way from Rachel, and different again from Miriam. “Daniel and your mama wouldn’t want you to raise Daniel Jacob alone,” Jacob said, surprising her. “How about if you don’t have to?”

  Rachel’s look nearly stole his resolve. She knew. She understood what he planned, and he couldn’t tell if she approved or not.

  By the shock on Ruben’s face, he knew too.

  Esther, it seemed, was the only one who did not. He kissed her hand. “How about if we raise him together, Es?”

  Esther shook her head in confusion. “What?”

  “You, me, Aaron, Emma and Daniel. A family Marry me, Esther.”

  For a few silent beats, Jacob thought she might say no. Almost wished she would.

  “All right, Jacob. I’ll marry you.”

  Chapter 13

  The Gutenberg by lamplight cast a bestial shadow across the barn floor. Six kerosene lamps placed on barrels, two atop a scarred old desk, yellowed the paper beneath Rachel’s hand to parchment.

  A new editorial for tomorrow’s issue of the Amish Chalkboard was finished.

  Midnight. A new day. A new beginning.

  Esther and little Daniel slept peacefully after the ordeal of labor and birth. Emma was spending the night with Levi in the daudyhaus, Aaron with his Unkabear in the kinderhaus.

  Unkabear.

  Rachel shook her head wondering again at the surprising difference in her husband. After the hearing over her newspaper, he’d changed. How could that be, considering his cutting, hateful words to her there?

  Unkabear.

  Could Aaron’s innocent, unconditional love have wrought such a change in his once hard-edged uncle? If so, it couldn’t be just a day and a half of Aaron’s company that made the difference. No, it had taken longer than that. Aaron had been breaking down Simon’s defenses bit by bit since his very first day here.

  Yet if Simon had returned Aaron’s regard before their time in the tobacco field, no one saw it … yet Rachel couldn’t help suspect that Simon had wanted to return it. Perhaps he’d been afraid, or he didn’t know how. More than likely, he had fought the urge. Knowing Simon, he would have seen it as weak.

  However it came about, Simon was suddenly and surprisingly the same man who comforted her four years before. As she’d sat beside her mother’s coffin, Simon next to her, his quiet support reminded her why she’d married him.

  But support was not love. His caring had been false four years before. It could be false now. Before they wed, to win her, he’d been pleasant and caring. He’d supported her through losing Jacob. All to win her. But for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why he wanted her. He disliked her in every way. She didn’t think he loved her, not even at the beginning, not even with a love as weak and brief as hers had been for him.

  The answer to why he married her had to come down to the one fact that had colored Simon’s entire life; he wanted what belonged to Jacob.

  So why pretend now? She no longer belonged to Jacob. Simon no longer needed to win her. They were already married and would be for the rest of their lives.

  Why would he pretend now?

  The question plagued her.

  Perhaps there was no pretense. Perhaps Simon cared for her at last.

  The new question, could she find it in her heart to care for him again? After everything they’d been through, would it be possible for them to make their marriage work? Couples with a good marriage were the best parents. And for this baby … She placed her hand on her belly. For this child, she was willing to do anything, even become a wife to Simon again. Her babe would need a good home. A family to love.

  Though family without Jacob seemed no family at all, Rachel knew she must be strong.

  She might see if Simon had truly changed by the way he reacted when he learned that Jacob had asked Esther to marry him. Simon would no longer need to win her from Jacob — because Jacob had Esther now — so he might revert to his hurtful ways, as he had when she was his upon their marriage. But if he continued to be caring and thoughtful, knowing Jacob no longer posed a threat, perhaps they could repair their differences.

  If so, she would work it out with him, her mind said.

  But she loved Jacob, her heart cried.

  It didn’t matter now. As surely as she belonged to Simon, Jacob belonged to Esther. He’d left Es tonight when it was time to wash her after her son’s birth. And he sat in the dark kitchen when Rachel came down and passed through, but he did not speak, and neither did she. What could be spoken between them not already said? Especially now.

  How could she say she was happy for him, when her heart cried at the final proof they would never be together. Two marriages now there would be between them. They would live separate lives in separate places. Her father would welcome Jacob and Esther to his farm with open arms. She would remain here with Simon.

  Rachel’s eyes filled. Aaron and Emma would be her sister’s to raise, which Esther would do admirably. But right now, Rachel’s heart bled at the thought of them not being hers to guide into adulthood. That she would see them often, probably daily, was the only thing keeping her from utter despair.

  Would they call Es Momly?

  She covered her child with a possessive hand. “Mine, you will always be,” she whispered. “Come what may. No one will ever take you from me.”

  Was the cost of her night with Jacob being exacted in painful fragments? She’d lost Mom … No. Rachel shook her head in denial. Mom had been ill for years. An end to her suffering was a blessing not a punishment.

  And her newspaper had not been taken away.

  Jacob was right. Of all the men the Elders might have placed as publisher, he would respect her wishes. He was already her partner, a fate Simon had sealed by destroying those parts. But she would not anguish over that again. She already forgave him.

  Jacob was right about something else. No matter who oversaw its printing, her paper was for the community.

  As right as Jacob had been about that, Simon had been wrong about something else. Barrenness was not her punishment for her pride in her newspaper. She carried a child. A miracle she thought never to have.

  No, she was not being punished. She must be grateful for this miracle of life and stop feeling as if Jacob and the twins were being taken from her, because they were never hers in the first place.

  If there was a forfeit due for her sin, it had not been exacted yet. She would continue to hope for mercy.

  Rachel looked at the work before her. When she conceived the idea for the Amish Chalkboard, she decided there would be a different kind of death notice. Her column called ‘Legacies,’ other newspapers called, ‘Obituaries.’ At a person’s passing, Rachel told his or her story. She spoke of how the world was left better for he or she having been here, intending that people rejoice for the life lived and remember the person who’d passed with smiles as a result of her words.

  It was sad, though, she thought, going over what she’d written, that the first ‘Legacy’ she set in type was about her mother.

  Rachel slid her hands over a tray of letters carefully set, slot by tiny slot. Her second story was a joyful notice of Daniel’s birth.

  One story for a life fulfilled, one for a life begun.

  Poor Mom, she had missed the pleasure of holding her first grandchild by days.

  Without warning, a warmth replaced Rachel’s sadness and she knew in her heart that Mom was happy, that she rejoiced in Daniel’s birth.

  Then elation became awareness and Rachel sensed a presence.

  She need not look t
o know who stood behind her. But she turned toward the open side door anyway, where Jacob stood backlit by moonlight. Always she sensed him. Even at the funeral yesterday, she’d known every move he made, how he endured almost with pain, as did she, Simon’s attention to her.

  How she’d wished it was him holding her.

  She scraped her chair back and stood. To share her first printed newspaper with him would be enough. “I’m setting type for tomorrow’s Chalkboard.”

  “I had to do it.” Jacob stepped forward and offered his hand.

  But she dare not take it. “Because of how much you love Esther. She deserves no less.”

  “I do love her, but not in the same way I—”

  “Shh.” Rachel put a finger to his lips. “You’d better make her a good husband, Jacob.”

  “And Simon had better make you one.”

  Her sob threatened to choke her and she could not stop it from bursting forth. Then Jacob’s arms held her so tight, so well, so beautifully and lovingly well, that she wanted the moment never to end.

  Tears and kisses mingled until, seemingly at the same moment, they remembered they must stop. Jacob held her while she cried in his arms. “I just want you to be happy,” he said, over and over. “Just be happy, Mudpie.”

  When she calmed, he put her firmly from himself and stepped back. “I pray Simon has truly changed, and I needed to give the both of you, and that baby, a chance to be a family. If you will live a long and happy life, then so will I. Now, let’s finish printing our first Amish Chalkboard on your very own Gutenberg.”

  No other word did they speak of his sacrifice. He would be good and loving to Esther, Rachel knew.

  As she would be good and loving to Simon, God grant her the strength.

  They worked all night, side by side. Of like mind when it came to the stories and their placement, their combined efforts made the work she loved more rewarding. They worked for long stretches in silence. A good, comfortable silence.

  This they would always have between them, this printing of the newspaper together. In her heart, Rachel thanked the Elders.

  * * * *

  The last of one hundred issues came off the press at cock-crow.