by Bush, Holly
Jacob nodded. “They miss you. I do too.”
Olive’s lashes dropped. “I miss you as well, Jacob.” As they walked slowly through the trees, Olive felt at peace and whole with Jacob near. She donned a brave face knowing that completeness would be gone with their parting.
Peg and Luke sat on her lap or hung on her skirts through the casual, stand-up supper, Beth had prepared. Jacob stayed to the other end of the kitchen, showing John how to whittle. Olive caught herself staring at the only man she knew she would ever love. When their eyes met, Jacob turned quickly away, obviously uncomfortable with their proximity. Olive swallowed the pain of the insult and wondered if she would regret telling Jacob she loved him.
Luke whispered in her ear as the men went to ready the wagons. “Daddy told me that you love us but you won’t marry us ‘cause he doesn’t love you.”
Olive’s eyes widened. She pulled Luke into her lap and leaned close to his ear. “Your Daddy’s right. I love you all very much.”
“I showed Daddy my special pillow. It made him sad. I think he misses Momma too much.”
“I think you’re right,” Olive said and gripped the boy tighter as he relaxed against her.
“Aunt Olive?” Luke said as he played with the buttons on Olive’s blouse.
“Yes, Luke?” she said and smiled and turned her head to face him.
“I love you.”
“Oh, Luke, I love you and your sister and brother very much.”
“Daddy, too?”
Olive’s eyes closed. “Yes, Luke. I love your father, too.”
* * *
Jacob watched Olive whisper to Luke as he stood at the door. She looked as beautiful today as Jacob had ever seen her. Even soaked with sweat and red-faced, Olive appealed to him on every level. Her hair had clung to her face in the heat of the kitchen and now curled in ringlets around her face. When Jack had told a silly story about Reverend McGrath, Olive’s eyes lit up and her smile was dazzling. If only she was smiling at me, he thought. The children had hung at her side and to her every word, all day. Now, Luke was on her lap as Olive held Mark in the other arm and Peg sat by her feet. His thoughts were interrupted as Mary approached.
“Aunt Olive told me you asked her to marry you.”
Jacob nodded.
Mary smirked. “She turned you down.”
He nodded again.
“I told her she was better off without a man,” Mary said.
“Is that right?” Jacob said.
“Don’t ya have nothing to say for yourself?” Mary asked and narrowed her eyes. “Still in love with your dead wife?”
Jacob held his temper as Mary baited him. “Feeling bad, grief about my Margaret, hasn’t been easy.”
“Loved your wife, huh? Had a great life with her, like in one of Aunt Olive’s books?” Mary leaned close and snarled. “You were good to John and me, taking us in like you did but I think you’re stupid. I’m only ten, but I’m smart enough to know that my Ma wasn’t a very good ma. But I still didn’t want to watch her get her throat slit. I’m getting over it and even if I never told her, I know I loved my Ma and my Aunt Olive, too.”
Jacob watched the tears form in Mary’s eyes and felt small and selfish beside the young girl. She had a bad, a horrible life but still managed to get past it and he knew that was the message she was sending. He looked away and Mary snorted and left him in his thoughts.
* * *
Over the next month’s back breaking work of getting the crops in, stored and sold, Jacob’s house grew somber. Luke was called on to help in the fields and Peg was often left alone with Mark. Jacob worried, knowing the situation was grim but was at a loss as to how else to solve it. Worse yet, Peg rarely smiled and Luke became increasingly sullen. Clean clothes and baths and hot meals went by the wayside as Jacob struggled to drag himself back home every nightfall and deal with his family. The only high point in his dismal day was that corn prices were holding and his land had yielded a bountiful product.
Luke walked to Olive’s early in the morning one day to ask if John could help in the fields. “Daddy wouldn’t want me to ask but we need the help.”
Olive looked at Luke standing on her porch in the early morning gray light and was shocked at the appearance of the boy. “We’ll get him up. Luke, you look so thin and tired. Are you feeling alright?”
The boy’s head hung. “Just a lot of work this time of year.”
“Can’t Mr. Williams or Mr. Steele help your father?” Olive asked.
“They have some but they have their own fields to do,” Luke said.
“Who’s watching Mark?”
“Peg,” the boy replied.
Olive’s shoulders dropped. She called to Mary and John to get up and dressed and heated oatmeal for Luke for breakfast. She stacked canned goods and a ham on the table while the boy ate and John and Mary got dressed.
“Where we going in such an all-fired hurry this early?” Mary asked.
“Jacob is trying to get his crops in and Peg and Mark are home alone. I have a feeling they haven’t been eating very well either,” Olive whispered to Mary.
“So what are we going to do?” Mary asked and scowled.
“Help, Mary. It’s what neighbors do.”
The girl rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath. Olive ignored her and loaded the wagon while Luke and John hitched the horse. “Come on children,” she shouted as Mary shuffled along.
When she arrived and saw the state of Jacob’s home, she was shocked. Peg burst into tears and clung to her dress when she saw Olive. The girl had burnt her finger on the stove attempting to heat mush for Mark. Olive kissed her and the thumb and helped Peg into clean clothes. To Olive’s surprise, Mary dug into the dirty dishes and piled muddy clothes windowsill high. Mark’s rash was back with a vengeance and the infant howled and fussed. Olive bathed him and made a cornstarch paste. He greedily ate the mush Olive fed him and nearly fell asleep in his chair. Near noon, Olive started a fire for laundry and Mary carried the earth and sweat-laden pants and shirts outside.
“I’m going to take Jacob and the boys some lunch. Mark’s asleep and Peg is playing with her dolls,” Olive called to Mary from the porch.
She filled a basket with sandwiches and jars of iced tea and pickled beets. Olive made her way slowly over the uneven plowed ground and saw Jacob and the boys ahead.
* * *
“There’s Aunt Olive,” Luke said as he straightened from the straw he bundled.
Jacob whoaed the horse and stood straight. His back was sore, his face and chest sunburned and his hands raw from holding the reins. Two weeks of gut wrenching labor had left him wrung out. His mind often drifted to Olive as he drove the horse, tired as well, one more row southward, one more row northward in a seemingly unending battle.
“What’s she doing here?” he asked Luke.
“I dunna know.”
Jacob watched his son look away. He was angry this morning when Luke came through the fields with John in tow and they had argued.
“Jacob,” Olive called, “I brought lunch.”
They met in the shade of an oak tree and Olive pulled supper from the basket. “Did Luke tell you to come over here?” Jacob asked.
Olive looked at Luke’s wide eyes and shook her head. “No. I haven’t seen the children for awhile and decided to visit.”
The boys shoved ham and beets in their mouth and chugged down iced tea. Soon their eyes were closing as they sat side by side against the trunk of the tree.
“Peg burnt her finger this morning, Jacob. I’m not sure she should be home all these days alone with Mark,” Olive said.
“Is she alright?” Jacob asked.
“She’s fine. But the children seem tired and out of sorts. Why didn’t you ask me to help you with them while you brought your crops in?”
“We’ll be fine.”
“No, I don’t think you will be fine. I thought we were friends, Jacob,” Olive said.
“We are friends
.”
“And you’re too proud to ask me for help. You helped me and Mary and John. Why wouldn’t you let me help you?”
Jacob looked at Olive’s angry face. She was wrong. It wasn’t pride that stopped him from asking her help. He lay in bed too many nights and fell asleep to a vision of Olive telling him she loved him. And if she was near that sentiment would be right smacked dab between them, making him feel his heart threatening to break yet again and Mary’s accusations too true. He didn’t want to face them, didn’t have the time or energy to deal with them, only knew that if Olive wasn’t within sight, he could forget his fears momentarily.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” Jacob said.
Olive’s eyes opened wide. “Of all the stupid things I’ve heard you say that takes the cake. Never mind,” she continued to Jacob’s open mouth, “that these children bear the brunt of your stupidity. I’m going back to the house, now and fix dinner and help Mary with laundry. Come on boys. You’ve had enough for one day. I think you two should go fishing.”
Jacob watched her stomp away and mutter, a boy on each side clinging to her hands. Here she was again, in his life, full of sass and deciding that the day’s work was done for the boys.
“Now wait a second Olive. If I have Luke out here, I can get this field done,” Jacob called out.
She turned to him and Jacob stepped back from the look on her face.
“These boys are tired and are going with me. Don’t you dare say another word, Jacob Butler. I mean it.”
His mouth closed as Olive’s head whipped back in the direction of his house and John and Luke skipped along beside her. Damn her, he thought. But a smile wrinkled his face at the toss of her hair as she challenged him to speak. He missed her so goddamned much. He missed how she guided the children and smiled and spoke her mind. He let out a hoarse laugh, thinking how much he loved arguing with Olive. And loved Olive. His face fell as the sentiment strung along naturally in his thoughts. But I can’t. I won’t. I won’t love someone like that ever again, he thought. What if she got sick, what if she died. Jacob let all the ‘what if’s’ work on his mind as he gathered the horses reins and steeled his resolve. I don’t love her. I can’t love her he chanted to himself and threw his weary body into the mind numbing tasks before him.
* * *
Over the next few days, Olive arrived shortly after Jacob left his house and left as she saw him coming through the fields. His house was clean, bread was baked, and his children, happy. He sent John and Luke home everyday at noontime and someone would deliver his meal in kind. The constant worry over Peg and Mark alone was gone and Luke’s sullen attitude had disappeared. Jacob pushed himself hard in the fields, knowing his work there was near done and happy with what he produced. He stepped into the house, full of chatter and the smell of dinner on the stove. He was surprised to see Olive’s wagon still there.
* * *
“Jacob, I want you to bring the children over to my house every Tuesday and Thursday to begin with studies again. Luke told me you were near done with the fields and I won’t be coming over during the day,” Olive said as she folded her hands at her waist.
“Alright,” Jacob said and plopped down in a chair.
Olive’s head tilted in surprise. She had expected an argument from him and was prepared for battle. “I don’t want the children to have a long lapse in their school work.”
“Fine,” Jacob said and poured tea from the crockery pitcher on the table. Peg and Luke kissed him and ran outside with Mary and John already in the wagon.
“These children, everyone of them are bright and continuity is important especially in their reading skills,” Olive continued.
“Olive, I said fine. I’ll have the children over there every Tuesday and Thursday for lessons.”
Olive snorted and stumbled. “Well, fine, then.”
As she neared the door she stopped when Jacob spoke.
“Thank you, Olive.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and take what he offered but she knew she could not. She longed for his kisses and touch, but knew she could not give herself to a man who didn’t love her. Her mind ached for his conversation and opinions but she knew she was not entitled to them. She longed for his heart and knew it would never be hers.
* * *
Olive decided fall was her favorite season. Children back to routine, trees with a symphony of colors and cool nights. She sat on her porch one such evening watching fireflies after the children had gone to bed. She was planning a lesson for the following day and now closed her book and leaned back. Olive’s eyes were near closed in the quiet of the evening when she heard the sound of a horse. The beat of hooves was not from the direction of Jacob’s and she jumped up and flew into the house. Olive threw the bar over the door with shaking hands and climbed onto the hearth to retrieve the shotgun. The shells rolled in her sweaty palms as she struggled to load and heard a banging at the door.
“Who’s there?” Olive shouted.
“I’m here for the boy and the girl both. Git em up and out here or you’ll be sorry, girlie.”
Olive’s eyes widened with fear and she saw Mary peeking around her door. “Get John, Mary.” Olive’s stomach rolled as she peeked out her front window and saw Sophie’s father swaying on his feet. She saw only one horse. “Take John and climb out your bedroom window, Mary. Get behind the barn and then make your way to Jacob’s”
John and Mary’s faces were white with fear and Olive was afraid John would begin to cry. Mary pulled him along to her bedroom and closed the door. “They’re not here. Now get off my property.”
Olive jumped and the rifle clattered to the floor as Jeb Davis threw himself at her front door time and again. The hinges heaved and the man stumbled into her house.
“Where are them kids?” he growled.
Olive watched the spittle drip from the corner of the man’s mouth and saw the drunken wild look in his eyes. Her breaths were short and she knew fear as she had never known before.
“They’re gone,” she whispered.
Jeb Davis flew forward, faster than Olive could have imagined and slapped her, open handed across the face. She flew into a heap on the floor, in the moment of no pain before an injury takes hold. When she looked up, she watched Mary leaping at her grandfather, beating him with her fists, around his face and chest. Olive’s heart fell, knowing they were now both at this wild man’s mercy. Please, dear God, let John be gone, she mumbled and tasted blood on her lip. But her prayers went unanswered as she watched John stare white faced and wide eyed at the milieu. Mary screamed as her grandfather pulled her hair sharply and her head snapped around.
Mary spotted John and screamed, “Run, John.”
Mary’s face contorted with pain and Olive grabbed her from Jeb Davis’ hold. The shotgun lay between them. Mary watched him eye the weapon and dove for it. But the old man was faster and he chuckled as he stood, rifle in hand. Olive’s heart was racing and Mary shook wildly in her arms.
“I ain’t going with you,” Mary spat at him. “You’ll hafta kill me first.”
An evil grin split the man’s lips and he replied. “Yer gonna wish you were dead, when I git ya home.”
Olive and Mary uniformly backed up until their legs hit the chair. But Mary’s courage in the face of this man made Olive’s back straighten. By damn, we’ll go down fighting, she thought.
“You’ll never get these children. They are mine. John’s on his way for help this minute. Soon you’ll have no choice but to leave,” Olive said.
He stepped forward and pulled Mary out of Olive’s arms. With a rope he pulled from his jacket, he began to tie her wrists. Olive watched blood bubble where the rope dug the girl’s flesh, but Mary never took her eyes from her grandfather’s face.
“Keep your mouths shut and I won’t stuff ‘em,” he muttered.
Davis yanked Olive up and out of her seat and she was sure her arm nearly came out of her shoulder
. Olive flinched as he pulled her arms around her back and Mary stepped forward and spit in his face. The child’s grim countenance did not change when the man slapped her and she fell, hitting her head on the rocker. Jeb Davis slowly pulled a filthy bandana from his pocket and wiped the spittle from his cheek.
“Get up,” he shouted.
Olive’s eyes widened as she saw blood dripping from Mary’s forehead. She shook her head in a vehement warning. Mary looked back at her grandfather as she stood.
“Get outside,” he growled.
Once on the porch with the two prisoners in front of him he lifted his leg and kicked Olive in the backside. She tumbled down the steps unable to catch herself and her head rang. Rolling around in the dirt, spitting dust, Olive felt Jeb Davis pull her upright. He leaned close to her ear and said, “That’s for taking what’s rightfully mine.”
Olive smelled liquor and body odor and her vision swam.
“You two start walking. I’ll be right behind ya. And if ya try anything funny girl,” he said as he turned to Mary, “I’ll blow your Auntie’s brains all over this here field.”
Olive hurried to Mary and whispered, “Come on, Mary. Do as he says.”
Olive and Mary walked and stumbled down the road in the moonlight, until the man on the horse shouted. “Here, turn in here. We’ll cut through Butler’s land.”
The bottom of Olive’s dress was soon heavy and covered with mud and she stumbled stepping over the rows of cut corn. She prayed John could make it to Jacob’s. Afraid and alone, she imagined, poor John, he’ll never recover from this whatever the outcome.
“Where are we going, Mary?” Olive asked.
“I don’t know,” the girl whispered back. “They’d know where to look for us if we were going to his homestead but we’re going the other way.”
The moon came through the clouds on Mary’s words and Olive saw stark terror on her niece’s face.
* * *
Jacob had trouble falling asleep that evening as he checked on his children for the tenth time. Everyone’s fine, he said to himself, even as felt a wave of panic arise in his chest. He lay back down and finally gave into the long day and closed his eyes.