The Women of Jacob’s Mountain Boxed Set

by Hining, Deborah;

  “Yeah, well, Wayne, what really hurts is my elbow,” said Geneva, by now acutely aware of the discomfort it caused her.

  “Yew hurt yer elbow, too?” asked Jimmy Lee, surprised.

  “Geneva, you didn’t tell me you hurt your elbow!” exclaimed Rachel.

  “And ye did all that diggin’!” added Lenora.

  Wayne rolled up Geneva’s sleeve to examine her arm, and the moment he caught sight of her elbow, he gave a long, low whistle. Geneva craned her neck to look at it, gasping in surprise. No wonder it hurt so much! She wondered why she hadn’t noticed it while she dressed. It was twice its normal size, red, and angry. When she touched it, it felt hugely hot. The way it throbbed, Geneva wondered if she might have done something serious to it.

  Everyone crowded around, looking at Geneva’s wounds, marveling at how strong she had been, how she must have suffered as she braved the rapids and wielded the heavy shovel to save Jimmy Lee’s life. Geneva felt intensely embarrassed, knowing how the elbow had really been injured, and more so knowing that Howard probably suspected the truth. She looked up, catching his eye as he leaned against the door frame, and blushed to the roots of her hair. Howard looked at his shoes and pressed his lips together.

  “Geneva, are you all right?” asked Wayne, concern in his voice. “You just flushed. Do you feel hot?”

  “Never mind. I guess we’ll just have to get to the hospital to get this taken care of. But I know Howard was hurt, too. Did you check him?”

  “Yes. He’s all right. Cuts and bruises and a bit of a headache this morning. He somehow managed to bang up both the front and back of his head, though I’ll be damned if I can figure how. But you’re the one I’m worried about. Let me give you something for the pain here.” He turned to rummage in his bag.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted irritably. “Just wrap it up and let’s get going.”

  Wayne wrapped her elbow and gave her some aspirin, then he joined Ike and Howard outside to load the car. Rachel carried baby Lenora into the kitchen to sit while the older woman washed dishes and entertained her guest with midwifery stories. Geneva sat alone in the living room, rocking Genny, listening to the voices drifting in to her, pondering her embarrassment but chuckling, too, and wondering if she should tell Rachel about the events of the night before.

  After a while, she became aware of another presence in the room. She turned to see Jimmy Lee standing in the doorway, looking pale and timid, smiling tentatively. When she caught his eye, he flushed violently and attempted to speak, but he choked on his words, Yet, his eyes were locked directly on hers, and when he found his voice, he spoke earnestly.

  “Miss Geneva, I aim ta thank ye,” he began. She started to protest, but he shook his head and plunged on. “Yew saved my life last night, and I’m beholden to ye. And ye done it with a busted up arm, and I know ye suffered fer my sake.” Geneva lowered her eyes and tried to regulate her heartbeat. This was an awful mess.

  He continued, “Yer like a angel to me, Miss Geneva. I know I ain’t good enough fer ye, but I want ye to know that I have feelin’s fer ye.”

  Geneva’s head snapped up. What was he saying? Oh, Lord, he was declaring himself! She glanced around the room, hoping Wayne or Rachel would come in before he said another word.

  Jimmy Lee advanced toward her, his face shining with earnestness, and—oh dear—infatuation. He continued, “There ain’t nuthin’ I wouldn’t do fer ye. I wish ye’d give me a chance to prove mysef. I…”

  Geneva jumped up. “Jimmy Lee, you are too kind. You would have done the same for me, or anybody, I’m sure, and my elbow was not hurt as badly as you think. Please, I—” she groped for words which were both kind and firm but discovered that she was completely inept in the situation.

  Mercifully, Wayne, Ike, and Howard walked in. Geneva startled; Jimmy Lee hastened back across the room, his face scarlet. Geneva knew she looked guilty, too. There was an awkward silence, then Ike cleared his throat and said gently, “I reckon yer set to leave, and I’d like to pray over ye afore ye go.”

  “Of course,” replied Wayne. He called Rachel and Lenora from the kitchen, and everyone went outside to stand in a silent circle, looking expectantly at Ike.

  Geneva had not yet had a good look at him, but this morning, under the soft blue sky, she turned her eyes fully upon his kindly face, wrinkled as a cauliflower, but glowing with serenity and life. His eyes were as clear and blue as bright sapphires beneath bushy white eyebrows that jutted out like wild brambles. To Geneva, he looked like a very old person with very young eyes and an even younger soul, a soul milk-fed by the hand of goodness. Geneva felt her tiredness and anxiety melt from her as she looked into this ruined, radiant face. Ike gazed at each of them briefly, then he lifted his head and called on the name of the Lord.

  The morning was a fine one. The sun was full up, a golden disk in the azure sky, but mist still clung in the low places and dew bejeweled the grass and the lacy spider webs. Below them, wet and shimmering, lay the forest through which they had come the night before. It was a wild, uncompromising place, alive with light and shadows. Huge trees and boulders towered over a tangle of rhododendrons whose blossoms dropped upon the surface of the creek and hurried away toward the mother river. The creek itself roared and foamed, crying out its own fecund song, which lifted to the treetops and into Geneva’s soul. Ike’s fine voice floated above the sound so that no one had to strain to hear him.

  As if in response to the prayer, the air turned golden all around them and warmed them as they stood there, listening to Ike pray for their safety and give thanks for the two healthy newborns. Geneva felt a Presence, as if the place had become holy, and God had ventured here to find them and bless them. Her spirit quieted, and Peace flowed in her and all around her.

  When he had finished, Wayne, Rachel, and Geneva shook his hand warmly, then Wayne turned to thank Howard. “The creek should go down soon,” he remarked. “You just leave the truck where it is and I’ll come back tomorrow and help you pull it out. I’d consider it a privilege to work on it with you.”

  “Yessir,” said Howard gravely. “That old truck kin set there awhile, and if you cain’t git up here, don’t you worry none. I got plenty of kin to help me with her. No, don’t you worry none about that old truck.”

  He turned to Geneva. Directing his gaze somewhere in the vicinity of her knees, he spoke in a low voice. “Miss Geneva, I’d be glad to take care ‘o yer car fer ye. I reckon I kin fix most anything wrong with it.”

  Wayne started to protest that he needn’t bother, that he would retrieve the Mazda, but Geneva cut him short.

  “Thank you, Howard. I think that’s very gallant of you.” She smiled timidly, caring very much that he should not think her ungrateful. Hesitating, she continued, “We’ve… been through a lot together, and I hope we can be friends.”

  Catching the import of her words, Howard recognized there not only the gratitude and the amusement, but also the humility. He looked her full in the eyes; his own were warmed by his open smile.

  Seven

  Geneva was half dozing in the porch swing when John strolled into her line of vision. For a moment she sat a little confused, trying to remember if she had decided whether or not she was going to be angry at him. She was sure she had made up her mind one way or the other, but when she saw him standing there, bathed in the rays of the afternoon sun so that he seemed nearly transparent, she could not make her brain function well enough to remember her decision. She wisely kept silent until he spoke.

  “Hi, beautiful. I see you’ve been tangling with mountain lions again,” he said. His tone was a shade too casual.

  “Why, whoever told you that outrageous lie? I got the bullet in the head when I was leading a Chinese demonstration for democracy and broke the arm when I fell out of the helicopter. I was helping James Bond escape from the scene. When did you get your cast off?”

  “Yesterday, when you were getting stitched up. I managed to sneak up to see Rachel and the
babies, but they wouldn’t let me in to see you. I understand you’ve had an interesting couple of days.”

  “Not bad. I try to stay busy.”

  “So I heard. You feel like walking?”

  She did. She was surprised at how much she felt like walking next to John, especially now that his cumbersome cast was gone. She matched her stride perfectly to his as they strolled into the field.

  “How are the Three Stooges doing?” she asked, shyly, half afraid to bring up the subject of cats.

  “Fine. Moe had a touch of hypertension when he found out you were missing, but he’s fine now that you’re back. Would you like to see them?”

  “Yes, I would,” she smiled. No doubt they had grown since she had last seen them, and she found herself surprised by the fact that she missed them. Besides, the field looked so inviting, she thought it would be nice to stroll over to John’s place with him. Geneva looked up to smile at the sun. It seemed to her like a huge target, and she felt like an arrow destined to fly into the very heart of that sun, so glad she was to be alive and reasonably intact on such a day as this. The wildflowers turned their merry little faces toward her as they passed, and it seemed perfectly right that John would take her hand while they strolled through the avenue of color.

  The kittens were rambunctious—more wild than ever. They allowed Geneva to scratch their heads but would not let her pick them up. After only a moment of violent play, they disappeared around the side of the house.

  “Let’s go inside and get something to drink,” suggested John. “Maybe you’d like to see my Congressional Medal of Honor.”

  Geneva smiled. She liked the game they were playing, now that she knew how to play it. Their conversation seemed to be effortlessly crafted, but perfectly matched, like a string of apt metaphors, like rhymed couplets. “Okay,” she said, mounting the steps to the porch. “I happen to know medals of honor pretty well. I have dozens of them myself.”

  She paused to glance down at the nail upon which she had torn her shirt not three weeks earlier. Since then her life had become amazingly eventful, but Geneva did not mind. It was nice to stay busy. John stood beside her, leaning on the rail, looking out over the next field. There was a long, comfortable silence, then John stirred and dropped his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was low but solid, nearly palpable in that transparent air.

  “I’m sorry I misled you with all those stories I told you,” he said. “I don’t suppose it would help if I said that I didn’t mean for you to really believe them.” He smiled a little sheepishly. “I tend to do stupid things like that. You know, make up tales just for fun.” His smile broadened. “I should have been a professional storyteller. Maybe I’d get it all out of my system.”

  “I understand,” she replied simply, tossing her red-gold mane and letting her lips curve into an arch little smirk. Pay-back time, she thought, and said aloud, “Some people are just born liars. You have to make accommodations for them.” She couldn’t help but add with a twist of lemon in her voice, “I happen to be someone who loves the truth.”

  John’s shoulders sagged. He turned his gaze back to the ground. Geneva could feel his wretchedness oozing from him in little waves. His brow furrowed, he moved restlessly, then he spoke again, more slowly, his voice no longer strong. “I suppose we ought to really come clean, and this is the perfect spot to do it, considering as how that little nail down there was what started a whole series of lies.” He pointed to the fateful nail.

  Geneva’s stomach dropped to her knees, but immediately afterward she suddenly felt wronged by the turn of events. Anger welled up. Rachel had betrayed her! But when? Geneva sifted through the sequence of events since the night of the copperhead, searching for a moment when her sister might have told John about her encounter with that nail.

  John laughed ruefully, “Isn’t it awful how one little incident can snowball into a whole series of lies? I mean, you think you can get by with one little indiscretion. Nothing, really, just one little thing you’d rather everyone didn’t know about, and the next thing you know, you’ve told some whoppers all over the place. Then you can’t get out of them. What a mess.”

  Geneva’s skin prickled with the alarming realization that he was being vindictive! How dare he choose this particular time, just when she was pretending to get on her soapbox for truth and honesty to let her know that he knew! Her eyes froze on the nail and she chewed her lip. What would he say to her next? Would he laugh at her, chastise her, call her a hypocrite? The thought made her angry, and the more she thought, the more the anger filled her, tart and hot in her mouth. Her heart pounded with it; the overflow blazed from her eyes. What a malicious soul to trap her like this, to confront her with the evidence in such an oblique way!

  But she would not allow him to lord it over her! Sneaking, conniving coward. This beat all! She drew herself up tall, facing him, declaring silently that she would not meekly apologize to him for peeking in his window! She had done no harm, and besides, he should have been home when she came to see him that day! Really! She gave him her haughtiest expression.

  “Whoa,” he said, taken aback by her fiery eyes. “There’s no need to get your back up. I really don’t think it was that bad.”

  “You don’t?” she asked, softening.

  “Well, no. It’s just that I didn’t want to tell anybody I did anything so foolish as fall off my own front porch. Everybody else loved my stories.”

  Geneva felt distinctly confused. Something told her she was not quite grasping his meaning. She waited.

  He pointed to the nail. “You see that nail?” he asked.

  She cleared her throat, cautious. “Yes.”

  “I had to replace that piece of siding; carpenter bees had started in on it, and it was muddy down there, so I tried to do it from up here.” He laughed. “You should have seen me hanging off this porch rail, upside down, trying to hammer that thing on. I got the first nail in all right, but I just got that one set, then I slipped and fell off the porch. That’s how I really broke my leg.” He chuckled. “Now don’t you wish you had let me stick to the damsel in distress story? So much more entertaining.”

  Relief rushed in to fill the vacuum that the retreating anger had left, and a little breathless, Geneva turned her dazed face away from John toward the green field and the silvery sunlight laughing through the grass. No damsel had ever been more timely rescued than she was at that moment! After a long pause in which she composed herself, she smiled at John, eyes full of forgiveness. “John,” she said, using her silkiest voice. “Would you like to go riding with me tomorrow?”

  He could not go tomorrow, but he could go the following week, and so they did, and nearly every day thereafter. Long, exhilarating rides in the evening dusk took them over mountains and through fields, splashing through streams and jumping over crevasses, and Geneva felt full of power and life. Her good arm grew strong, the hand callused from caressing the reins, and the injured arm mended along with her soul as she laughed and galloped and played in the dying sunlight and long shadows. It was a friendly time; John did not kiss her or even act as if he thought about it, but Geneva found a comfortable goodness growing between them. It surprised her how much she enjoyed just being with him. The subject of lies never came up again.

  Life at the farm also became serene and idyllic once again. The babies were already growing fat, and Rachel moved about the house with dignified grace, reveling in her ability to bring forth life and nurture it so effortlessly. Geneva was awed, even intimidated by her huge breasts, so abundant with milk that they often, and without warning, erupted like fountains, soaking the front of her blouse.

  Geneva renewed her friendship with her relatives and old friends who came to admire the newborns and found herself sliding, at first inch by inch, and then in a mind-numbing rush, toward the feeling of complete security and harmony among her home folk. She was so content that she did not even mind when Evangeline turned up after a long absence with nine kittens trotting after her. She j
ust laughed and gave them away to whichever cousin happened to be visiting.

  The weeks evaporated, and August rained gold sunshine upon them, making them all feel like children again, happy in the knowledge that joy is the purpose of life. The city twin went into deep hibernation while the country twin grew strong and sassy and became increasingly interested in John, although his interest in her still did not seem to grow. He was friendly and funny, and he always seemed to be around, but he never looked into her eyes, nor did he gaze with longing whenever he thought she was not looking, although Geneva gave him plenty of opportunity to do so. It was the only flaw in this idyllic time, for it made her anxious. He was the first man she had ever found attractive who seemed to have no attraction to her. At first she found this merely annoying, but soon she began to be obsessed with the idea of making him want her. She found herself reliving those first kisses they had shared and watching his every move as he reined in Redneck, the fine, red gelding, or rode him hell for leather across the watercolor meadow.

  The thought of Howard Graves slept dreamlessly beside the city twin; in fact, Geneva never thought of him anymore. Instead, without realizing it, she resurrected her restructured Master Plan, the idle indulgence that had landed her behind John’s holly bushes. After allowing it to ferment, mulling and churning it in her mind, she began to find the idea of marrying John and taking the job that Dianne had offered more and more satisfying. At last, she made up her mind that was what she wanted, and so set about seriously working out the practical matters, such as would they have time to get married, have the honeymoon, and get back by February so she could begin the season? And there was the trickier chore of making John fall in love with her and getting him to propose (and in a hurry) without making him feel like it was her idea.

  She finally came to the reluctant decision that there would not be time to do the wedding right and still start work in February. She wanted to enjoy a longish engagement to give everyone enough time to be properly jealous, and then at least a month in… Paris? Not in winter… Barbados? Skiing in Vancouver? Maybe they could hire a yacht and sail around the Greek Islands…