Robin Lee Hatcher (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

F
or several days, Karola wallowed in self-pity and self-blame. Depression clung to her like a heavy shawl over her shoulders. She knew she should talk to Jakob about her feelings, but she couldn’t make herself do it. It was fear that stopped her—what if she made matters worse between them? What if he never loved her as she loved him?

On Saturday morning, Karola rose from bed before dawn, dressed hastily, took her Bible from the nightstand, and walked up the mountainside, not stopping until she was winded from the climb. Then she sat on the ground beneath an aspen.

“I cannot go on like this, Father. Help me.”

With her eyes closed, she drew in a long, deep breath, then set her Bible on its spine in her lap and let it fall open. Releasing her breath, she opened her eyes and focused her gaze on the right-hand column of the right page. The first heading read:
Psalm 13.

“How long wilt thou forget me, O L
ORD
? for ever? how long
wilt thou hide thy face from me? How long shall I take counsel in
my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily? how long shall mine
enemy be exalted over me?”

“How long, Lord?”

Like King David, she felt forgotten. Forsaken. Even knowing God loved her, even knowing he was near to her, hadn’t driven away the depression, hadn’t lightened her spirit or allowed hope to return. She was impatient for his answer. She wanted him to rescue her from the distress that overwhelmed her. Now.

“Consider and hear me, O L
ORD
my God: lighten mine eyes,
lest I sleep the sleep of death; Lest mine enemy say, I have prevailed
against him; and those that trouble me rejoice when I am
moved.”

That’s what she had felt these many days. She would sleep the sleep of death.

“But I have trusted in thy mercy; my heart shall rejoice in thy
salvation. I will sing unto the L
ORD
, because he hath dealt bountifully
with me.”

Karola grew still as the final two verses replayed in her mind:
“But I have trusted in thy mercy; my heart shall rejoice in thy salvation.
I will sing unto the L
ORD
, because he hath dealt bountifully
with me.”

Something new resonated in Karola’s heart. Not the despair of King David but his faith and trust, his word’s of rejoicing, his recognition of God’s goodness to him.

“‘Yet I will rejoice in the L
ORD
, ’” she said, recalling a favorite verse of her mother’s, one Frieda Breit had quoted often. “‘I will joy in the God of my salvation. The L
ORD
God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds’ feet, and he will make me to walk upon mine high places.’”

The meaning behind those words was suddenly clear to her. Rejoicing wasn’t the product of feelings. It was a
decision,
a choice of her free will.

She lifted her gaze from the pages of her Bible and stared down the mountainside. She couldn’t see the farmhouse or outbuildings from here, but she knew where they were. She pictured Jakob asleep in their bed.

“Father God, I rejoice that you are sovereign. I do not know the plans you have for me, but I do know that they are for my good. You have dealt bountifully with me. You have saved me, and I am grateful for your love. Grant me your wisdom to speak what you would have me speak, and to be silent when you would have me silent. I give you myself, my marriage, and my husband. I choose to trust you. Father, you are merciful and long-suffering, especially to those who call upon the name of your Son, Jesus.”

She closed her eyes a second time, savoring the sweetness of God’s presence.

How she wished she could share this with Jakob. She wanted him to understand the comfort to be found in God’s Word. She wanted him to savor the presence of the Lord the way she savored it now. She knew that sharing this—more than anything she might want for her marriage or for her husband—was of utmost importance.

It is more important for Jakob to love you, Father, than for
him to love me.

It was almost painful to think those words. It was hard to let go of what she wanted so dearly.

“Karola?”

Half expecting she only imagined Jakob’s voice, Karola opened her eyes. She hadn’t imagined it. There he was, perhaps ten yards away.

“Are you all right?”

“Ja,”
she answered as she stood. “But you are not.”

Pale as a ghost, his face was etched with pain. He hugged his side with one arm.

“What are you doing here, Jakob?”

“I came to talk to you.” He shortened the distance between them, and as he drew near, Karola saw beads of sweat dotting his forehead.

“How did you know where—”

He shrugged. “I watched from the bedroom window as you came up the mountain.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

He was silent for what seemed a long time before he softly said, “I always know when you leave the bed.”

She flushed, oddly embarrassed by his confession.

Jakob gave her what passed for a smile before he sank to the ground near where she’d sat moments before. “I hope you didn’t want to be alone.” He leaned against the aspen’s trunk and released a soft groan.

“Nein.”
She sat beside him, a quarter turn around the tree. “I am glad you are here, Jakob.”
I was praying for you. For us.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the last few days.”

She dared to look at him. He was watching her, his expression grave.

“You said I’m angry at God. You said I always walk away rather than talk to you. You said I was without hope.”

“I am sorry, Jakob. I say too much. I should not—”

“No. That’s the way I am. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. You were just saying what you see.”

Karola worried her lower lip.

“Are those the reasons I make you so unhappy, Karola? Or is it something more? Don’t try to tell me you’re not unhappy because I know better. I’ve seen you crying.”

He’d seen? She hadn’t meant for him to. She’d tried to hide it. She didn’t want to add to his troubles. “It is not you, Jakob. I am unhappy with myself.”

“Yourself?”

“
Ja.
Sometimes I forget what is important, what is right. That is what makes me unhappy.”

Wordlessly, Jakob took hold of her left hand with his right.

Karola looked down at their laced fingers, and her heart fluttered at the unexpected contact.

Jakob saw her look of surprise and wondered if he’d dared too much by taking hold of her hand. Still, he didn’t let go.

“Are you sorry you married me?” He steeled himself against her answer, but he needed to know.

Tears flooded her eyes, and she shook her head.

It was obvious he’d stuck his foot in it again. Quickly, he said, “I wouldn’t blame you if you
were
sorry. You’ve struck a poor bargain in me.”

“Oh, Jakob. I am not sorry we are married. How could I be?” The tears that had welled moments before now streaked her cheeks. “I love you.”

She said the words so softly—and so reluctantly—he wasn’t sure she’d said them at all. But she had said them, and the sweet words were like a healing balm on an open wound.

Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. “I hope someday you may learn to love me, too.”

“It’s too late for that.” Jakob had trouble getting the words out around the emotion crowding his throat. When they did come, they sounded almost gruff.

Hurt flickered in her eyes, and she tried to pull her hand from his.

He tightened his grip. He wasn’t about to let her go. Not now. Not ever. “It’s too late to learn to love you, Karola, because I already do.”

With a gentle tug, he pulled her across his lap so he could hold her in his arms. After all, it was where she belonged. He didn’t care about the pain in his ribs the action caused. He needed to embrace Karola. He wanted to kiss the bride he loved, the bride who loved him in return.

Sure, and there was nothing Tulley Gaffney enjoyed more than being proved right. And he knew he had been when he saw Karola and Jakob that Sunday morning. Oh, he was sorry Ian and Laura were still at mass. He’d have liked them to see this, too.

“We have missed you so much!” Karola gave each of the children a tight hug. “The days have been too long, and our house is too quiet without you there.”

“I’m thinking the quiet did you both some good.” Tulley grinned. “I do believe there’s new color in your cheeks, Mrs. Hirsch. Have you forgotten to wear your bonnet when out in the sun?”

Karola blushed scarlet at his words. Unable to help himself, Tulley gave a conspiratorial wink to Jakob, and bless him if Jakob didn’t blush, too.

It was all Tulley could do not to laugh out loud.

Jakob cleared his throat. “We’d better get over to church. I hate walking in after the service is started.”

“You’ll be staying for dinner after. Laura won’t be taking no for an answer and neither will I.”

Karola glanced at Jakob; Jakob glanced at her. The tenderness in their eyes was like a physical caress.

Aye, it did a man good to see how things had worked out between those two. Of course, Tulley had known ’twas meant to be the first time he set eyes on the lass. They’d just needed a wee bit o’ help, and he’d been glad to provide it.

“Go on with you.” Tulley grinned from ear to ear. “You’ll be keeping the good reverend waiting, and I’ll not be having Pastor Joki accusing me of interfering with his services. You come to the hotel after, and we’ll have us a bite to eat. I’m thinking ’tis corned beef and hash on the menu today.”

’Twas a good thing, indeed, to help two people find love. Sure, an’ Tulley Gaffney couldn’t have been more pleased with himself.

“Mornin’, Miss White.” Lance removed his hat as he spoke, then raked his fingers through his hair, hoping Charlotte wouldn’t notice he needed a trip to the barber.

“Well, good morning, Mr. Bishop.” She smiled at him, squinting her eyes against the morning sun. “We haven’t seen you in town lately.”

“Been a bit busy, between my place and the Hirsch farm.”

“Karola told me what a help you’ve been to them.” She lowered her voice slightly. “I was out to visit her earlier in the week. Did she tell you?”

Now, that sounds promising
. “Yes, she told me. I’m right sorry I missed seeing you for myself.”

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. The little flirt.

Swallowing a grin, he said, “I was wondering, Miss White, if I might sit with you this morning.”

“I suppose that—” She broke off abruptly, then said, “Look who’s here. It’s the Hirsches.”

Lance turned to see the whole family—Maeve and Bernard leading the way, Aislinn in Karola’s arms—coming toward the church. Jakob moved slowly and stiffly, but otherwise, he looked a whole lot different than when he and Lance had talked a couple of days ago. Stronger, less bowed beneath the weight of the world.

And Karola? He’d always known she was pretty, but this morning she positively glowed.

“Well, I’ll be …” Lance spoke beneath his breath, grinning. Only one reason he could think of for such a change in them both.

Folks began to gather around the Hirsches, greeting Jakob with warm words and pats on the back.

“Good to see you, Jakob. We’ve been keeping you in our prayers, me and the missus.”

“Can’t believe you’re up and about so soon. It’s a miracle. That’s what it is.”

“Must be the nursing of this pretty wife o’ yours. I know she shore would make
me
feel better.”

“You know, Jakob. There’s easier ways to get a gal to marry you than by throwing yourself under a herd of galloping horses.” Laughter erupted over this last comment.

“Why, they’re in love!” Surprise laced Charlotte’s soft words.

“I reckon they are at that,” Lance replied.

“Does it bother you?”

He looked at the young woman beside him. She appeared uncertain, almost fearful. “Nope. Does it bother you?”

Her eyes widened a fraction, and then a smile slowly lifted the corners of her mouth. “No, Mr. Bishop, it doesn’t bother me. I’m delighted for them. I hope they’ll be very, very happy.”

“Good.” He offered her his elbow. “Maybe we’d best go inside now.”

“Yes.” She slipped her gloved fingers into the crook of his arm. “Let’s do.”

It occurred to Charlotte for the first time that Lance Bishop was interested in
her,
not her pretty face or her stylish dress or the way she wore her hair or even the fluttering of her eyelashes in his direction. On the Fourth of July, when they’d shared her boxed lunch, he’d listened whenever she spoke, giving her his full attention, and he’d seemed to care about what she said.

Seated beside Lance in the third pew, Charlotte cast a surreptitious glance in his direction. He’d removed his hat upon entering the church, allowing her a nice look at his profile. It was a handsome profile, too, especially today when he was freshly shaven and his hair was slicked back.

Something told her that Lance wouldn’t be easily manipulated. Charlotte was used to getting what she wanted, often through her own wiles. But the old tried and true wouldn’t work with Lance. She wouldn’t change his mind with a winsome smile or a flirtatious toss of her head. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. Oddly enough, she was relieved by the discovery.