Jeb's Wife

by Patricia Johns

  “You don’t want to,” she whispered.

  Is that what she really thought—that he didn’t want this? He wanted it so badly that it nearly choked him. That was the problem.

  “Oh, Leah,” he said, his voice lowering to a growl. “I want you, every inch of you, and I want things that would very likely scandalize a good woman like you . . . but I only want it when you’re sure that you’re happy with me. That I’m enough. Just as I am. Let’s wait . . .”

  Leah stepped back, and her hands went up to her loosened hair. She ran her fingers through it, pulling it away from her face again.

  “I should go up,” she said, her voice shaking.

  “Leah—”

  “No, it’s okay,” she said quickly. “I understand.”

  She turned for the stairs, and it was like his heart tugged out of his chest to follow her. If that was how he felt now, what about after making love to her? What about then?

  Leah’s footsteps padded softly up the stairs, and he heaved a sigh, shutting his eyes. Had that been the smart choice or the stupid one? He wasn’t even sure. If he’d just kept his mouth shut, he could have her in his bed right now.

  Jeb bent down and picked up her white kapp; it had fallen on the floor next to the table. The fabric was neatly starched, and he ran it through his fingers. Yah, he wanted her—so much that he was aching for her right now. But he also knew what heartbreak felt like ... and it started with this kind of longing.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Leah lay in her bed a long time that night, her mind spinning. What had just happened down there? And would she really have gone upstairs with him? Would she have thrown all her caution out with the potato peels and gone to bed with her husband?

  The truth was, in the moment when her body longed for more, with his lips on hers and his muscular arms holding her so gently, she would have. She wanted it. She wanted it now! And lying in her bed, alone on those cool white sheets, hot tears began to flow.

  Maybe she was lonely, too. Jeb was very much alone in his secluded life, but so was she . . . and to be held in her husband’s arms, to be kissed like that, to be desired like that—yah, she’d have gone to his bed . . . if he hadn’t changed his mind.

  She lay there in the darkness, her tears soaking into her pillow, until she finally fell into a heavy sleep.

  Breakfast the next morning was hurried and somewhat awkward. Jeb looked like he wanted to talk, but Leah wasn’t interested. Whatever he had to say would only explain why he’d pulled away—and she knew why. Nothing had changed, and there was nothing else to say about the matter.

  “Leah, I’m sorry,” he said before he left for chores that morning. “I am. Deeply.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she said quietly. “We should have known better.”

  She should have known better.

  “I’ll see you later on, then—” He paused, looking like he wanted to say something else, then pressed his lips together and headed out the door.

  Expecting Jeb to be an ordinary Amish husband had been a mistake on her part, and as she turned back to her work in the kitchen, the letter from the school board crinkled in her apron pocket.

  There was a place where she was wanted, where she could contribute with her head held high. Rimstone was asking her to come back, and it was looking more and more appealing.

  * * *

  An hour later, when Leah had just finished mopping the kitchen floor, Jeb’s boots came clunking up the steps, and the side door opened. Leah wrung out the mop and wiped her hands on a cloth. Jeb came inside, but he stopped at the edge of the clean floor.

  “Have you seen your brother?” Jeb asked. “He didn’t show up to help me today.”

  Leah blinked at him. “He didn’t?”

  Jeb shrugged. “I’ve got to get back to work, but ... he’s not here.”

  “I’ll see if I can find him,” she replied.

  Jeb was silent for a moment.

  “Are we okay, Leah?” he asked.

  “Yah, of course,” she said, and forced a smile.

  “Do we need to talk?” he asked. “Have I messed this up too badly?”

  No—the last thing they needed was to rehash all of that again.

  “It’s fine, Jeb,” she said. “You go back to work, and I’ll try to sort out my brother.”

  Jeb retreated again and the door shut after him, leaving Leah alone in the kitchen. If Simon wasn’t at work, he was either sulking because of yesterday’s drama or it was something much worse.

  So Leah left her mop leaning in the corner and headed for the door. Simon needed some sense to be drilled into him, and right now, she was the only one who cared enough to do it.

  The day was overcast, so much cooler than it had been the last week. A stiff breeze promised rain, and Leah watched the tops of the trees thrash about in the wind as she walked briskly toward the cottage.

  Simon was the one who needed her right now, but her mind wouldn’t stay on her younger brother. She was still thinking the same thoughts that had been overrunning her head all morning—what it had felt like to be in Jeb’s strong arms.

  Strange how in this short time of marriage she’d started to see the older, scarred man so differently. He’d gone from intimidating to ... how did she feel about him? She found herself remembering his touch when he wasn’t around, thinking about just how it felt to be pulled against him. She’d started to wonder when he might do it again.... He wasn’t frightening anymore. She understood him better—the community that meant so much to her was the one that had crushed him. And she could accept that dichotomy because she truly believed he could come back again. It just might take time.

  It wasn’t the logic that filled her mind anymore, but the memory of his touch, the longing to feel his lips on hers again. The curiosity about what it might be like to share her husband’s bed ... This was the very thing they’d meant to avoid, because he’d been right—she wanted more than a man in her bed. She wanted him to join her in the community. The closer they got physically, the more she wanted in other parts of their relationship.

  Suddenly, the Amish advice to young people to sort out every other aspect of their relationship before marriage and deal with the physical parts after the vows made a lot more sense. Passion didn’t fix the other problems, it only magnified them.

  When Leah reached the cottage, a spattering of warm rain had started to fall, the scent of moist, rich earth rising up around her. She put her hand over her kapp to keep it from blowing in the wind, and she hurried toward the front door. There was a buggy parked under the stable awning, the horse still hitched up and waiting. A crack of lightning lit up the sky, and she ducked her head and rapped twice on the door, then let herself in.

  The clouds opened up as she stepped inside and rain pummeled down. She swung the door shut behind her and looked up to see her brother standing in the kitchen, but as she suspected, he wasn’t alone. Standing next to him, his arms crossed over his chest and an irritated look on his face was Matthew Schrock. Leah blinked, then smiled hesitantly.

  “Sorry to just let myself in like that, but the rain . . .” she said.

  “It’s fine,” Simon muttered.

  “Hello, Matthew,” she said, and she glanced between the two men. She’d definitely interrupted something, and she’d gladly retrace her steps right back out the door if it weren’t for the current deluge.

  “It’s just as well your sister is here,” Matthew said, turning to Simon. “I’m sure she’ll agree with me on this anyway.”

  “Let it go,” Simon snapped.

  “No, I’m not going to do that!” Matthew retorted. “Leah, I came to talk to him man-to-man about his gambling. It’s not like he’s listening to me anyway.”

  Leah smiled weakly. “I came to discuss the same thing.”

  “The both of you can leave me alone,” Simon snapped. “Am I gambling right now?”

  “You were yesterday,” Matthew said, then glanced over at Leah. “S
omeone saw Jeb haul him out of the pool hall, and word flew around town.”

  Leah sighed and rubbed her hands over her face. “The thing is, Simon, we can’t bail you out again. We don’t have that kind of money.”

  “What do you know? You’re barely married!” Simon shot back.

  “I’m well and truly married,” Leah said.

  “Are you?” Simon shot her an irritated look. “Because there have been some rumors around town about that, too.”

  Leah’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt the blood rush from her face. What exactly did he mean by that? And he’d heard this around town?

  Leah glanced over at Matthew, and his face colored. He dropped his gaze. “Leah’s marital problems aren’t our business, Simon.”

  “Marital problems?” she breathed.

  “Leah, don’t you come here and start telling me how to live,” Simon said. “We’re both grown, and I’m not telling you how to live your life.”

  “Seriously? I don’t have any marital problems!” she burst out.

  Simon looked away, and suddenly, he wasn’t the grown man anymore, he was the boy—embarrassed, upset, out of her reach.

  “Of course,” Matthew said quickly. “And while this really is not my place to talk to you about, I could suggest that you speak with the bishop’s wife, perhaps, or an elder’s wife. A new marriage isn’t always easy, especially when the husband and wife don’t know each other well—”

  Anger bubbled up inside her. To be lectured about marital issues by her ex-fiancé was almost unbearable.

  “Please, stop talking,” Leah said, her voice strangled.

  Matthew fell silent, and Leah swallowed. How much did people know? How far had these rumors gone? The worst part was that they were entirely truth. This wasn’t some painful exaggeration—she and her husband were sleeping in separate bedrooms, and so far, they had not consummated their relationship. If they stuck to their original plan, they never would.

  “The bishop’s wife has spoken with other young women,” Matthew said. “And after I say this, I won’t ever bring it up again. But she talked to Rebecca, too. Rebecca didn’t want a baby right away because we didn’t know each other terribly well, and—”

  “That obviously worked well,” Leah said bitterly. Their issues were very different.

  “I’m just saying,” Matthew said. “It might help. She’s been married a long time, and she’s counseled many newly married women.”

  Apparently, Matthew had some interest in counseling newly married women as well, but Leah clenched her teeth.

  “I thought we were here to discuss my brother’s problem?” she said.

  Matthew nodded. “The thing is, I have an idea of something that might help—something the bishop agreed would be a good solution.”

  “Fine. What is it?” Simon asked.

  “The Englishers have a group that meets to help people trying to get over gambling addictions. Several Amish men in our community have gone, the bishop says, but he won’t name names, obviously. The point is, it’s effective. It worked for them, and it can work for you.”

  “An Englisher group,” Simon said bitterly.

  But it wasn’t a terrible idea. Leah didn’t know what else they could do for her brother, short of asking the community to donate to bail him out of his future debts, and that was a ridiculous request. Simon needed more than punishment if a severe beating wasn’t enough to keep him away from those vile card games. He needed help—more than his sister could provide. And for the first time in the last year, she was grateful for Matthew’s interference.

  “Simon, this is serious,” Leah said quietly. “I’m afraid for you.”

  “I’m fine. I’m actually good at cards,” Simon said.

  “Not really,” Matthew replied. “Besides, it’s a game of chance, isn’t it? It doesn’t rely on your skill so much as the hand you’re dealt. You’ve gone too deep, Simon. I’m taking the risk of losing my friendship with you because I’m scared for you. Those men are violent. Next time they might break a bone, or you might find yourself stabbed. They’re Englishers, Simon!”

  Leah exchanged a look with Matthew, and she realized that he did look older with the married beard. He sounded older now, too. A year had changed a great deal.

  Simon sank into a kitchen chair and slowly shook his head. “You said it worked for other Amish?”

  Did the mental image of his potential injuries mean more coming from Matthew? Was it that Matthew was a man and Leah wasn’t? Or was it just that Simon simply tuned her out? Was her effectiveness here at home over now?

  “The bishop says it worked. So, you’ll go, then?” Matthew pressed. “Because I’ll drive you there myself. And I’ll pick you up. The meeting itself is private, I understand, but—”

  “Yah,” Simon said. “Okay, then.”

  Leah looked out the window. The spontaneous shower had let up, and the trees were dripping, but the rain was back down to a drizzle. A few rays of sunlight punched through the clouds, illuminating a stretch of rainbow through the haze.

  Their community was going to be a help to Simon, and even Matthew, for all his faults, was turning out to be a solid friend to her brother. Maybe these meetings would help him—give him some perspective, perhaps, or give him the answers he needed to keep him away from those card games.

  But for her? For the first time, Leah realized, this community that had cradled her since babyhood was no longer her answer. They knew too much—they knew the worst. Her marriage would no longer bring her the respect she longed for, because they’d see a woman with a problematic union. They’d all know that she went home to her own bedroom, and they’d be whispering behind her back. Apparently, they already were if Matthew knew about it and the bishop’s wife was being suggested.

  Was that why Matthew had been in such a rush to come tell her about her brother? Was Jeb right that he’d come to check on her?

  As Leah looked out the window at the misty rainbow that formed across the gray sky, she slipped her hand into her apron pocket and touched the letter she’d received from the school board. Rimstone was the one place that didn’t know the worst—the town that respected her for what she contributed, the kinner she taught.

  “Simon,” Leah said, “Jeb has given you this job to work on his farm, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t take advantage of his kindness. Either go back to work with him this morning and make up the lost hours or I will ask him to hire someone else.”

  Simon looked over at her, and she could see the blatant shock on his face.

  “Is this coming from Jeb?” her brother asked.

  “This is coming from me,” she replied. “If he doesn’t tell me about your surprising new dedication to your job by dinnertime, you won’t need to bother coming in to work tomorrow.”

  Simon compressed his lips, the old, defiant look in his eye back again. Would he do as she said? Or would she be forced to follow through? Regardless, it was time Simon got serious about something, and a job wasn’t a bad place to start. The Amish worked hard—it was what kept them close to home and close to the land. Simon needed more labor in his life, not less.

  “I’m going home,” she said, turning toward the door. “Nice to see you, Matthew.”

  And as she pulled the door open, she realized she didn’t have the desire to look over her shoulder again. Whatever she’d been feeling for Matthew was gone.

  And whatever Simon had ahead of him, he’d better start facing it like a man, because Leah had done him no favors these last years. He was now in the arms of the Amish community.

  * * *

  Jeb stood at the back door of the horse barn, a stick in his hand as he whittled away at it, a braid slowly forming in the wood. It was a simple technique Menno had taught him years ago when they’d shared a bedroom. Funny, the things that comforted. Whittling helped him to focus his thoughts.

  He still wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing last night with Leah. This morning was awkward enough between
them. It didn’t feel like any of his options were the right choice. If he took his wife to bed, they’d start expecting things from each other that hadn’t been part of their original arrangement, and he knew what disappointing a woman felt like. And having chosen not to take that step yet, he’d embarrassed her. That was plain as day, and he felt like a fool for having done so.

  A small curl of wood followed his knife as he traced around the shape of the braid. Little by little—that was the secret to whittling. A man couldn’t rush. The piece was done when it was done. And yet taking his time with Leah felt ... not exactly wrong, but not right either. He was messing this up with Leah—he could feel that much.

  If Peter were here, they’d talk it out. Peter had insight into people, into what made them tick. He’d come home with gossip about the community, and it was never the mean-spirited kind. Peter didn’t just repeat tales. He always sympathized.

  A man is never as strong as he wants to be. Peter had said that over and over again. And he was right. Jeb wasn’t as strong as he wanted to be either.

  What would Peter say about Leah? What would he say about Jeb’s fear of stumbling again into the resentment and anger of his first marriage?

  Peter would have had a word of wisdom ... but he was gone, and his wisdom was gone with him.

  How do I fix this, God? Or was this marriage unblessed from the start?

  The front door to the stable opened, and Jeb turned to see Simon coming in.

  “I thought you were sick or something,” Jeb said.

  “I’m—um—feeling better,” Simon said. “I’ll work longer hours today to make up for this morning. I’m sorry about that. If you’ll let me know what you want me to do, I’ll get to it.”

  Jeb raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected that, and when Simon came closer, he squinted at the younger man.

  “What’s going on?” Jeb asked.