Year of Jubilee Page 4

  Rafe shifted in his seat and she flinched. She’d almost forgotten him. It could’ve been enjoyable to sit and study the people as they came in and out, if it weren’t for the fact she accompanied a virtual stranger whom she’d agreed to marry. She lifted her eyes. He stared out the window, watching a horse and buggy. She patted the brown paper package of fabric in her lap. He’d been very kind to purchase the fabric. Was it a ruse to get her to marry him? Her stomach clenched. Jubilee wasn’t sure if it was from hunger or from wedding anxiety.

  The waitress arrived and plopped the plates onto the table and scurried away. Jubilee eyed the huge portions covering her plate. This was enough food for two days.

  “Do you mind if I pray?” Rafe asked quietly.

  Her eyes flew to his. Was he a preacher?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  What a silly question. The man farmed. She muddled this thought in her head, thankful she hadn’t blurted her thoughts aloud, and barely acknowledged his simple prayer. He tore into his food and she did likewise, wondering how she managed to eat. But experience had taught her to take meals when they became available.

  She was struggling to eat a mere half of the roast beef, potatoes and gravy, when he pushed his plate back clean. She stared at the rest of the food on her plate.

  “You know you don’t have to finish every bite.” A trace of humor lit his voice.

  She swallowed. “What will happen to the scraps?”

  He shrugged. “Probably get added to a big slop bucket and hauled out to the pigs.”

  She gasped and looked down. They threw good food out to the hogs? Positively unthinkable. Even cold Mrs. Galston had sent the leftovers home with Mrs. Perkins.

  She’d endured weeks with relatively nothing to eat. Her eyes went to him in astonishment. “Really?”

  He laughed. “Yes. Don’t worry about the leftovers. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

  Suddenly, her belly sank, as if filled with a thousand lead marbles. The wedding. Oh, dear heavens. She pushed her plate back. It didn’t appear so appetizing anymore.

  * * *

  As he held the door for Jubilee, his mind lit on his family. It was true, Rafe supposed, that their marriage wasn’t a real wedding of sorts. Still, they ought to be standing with him. Especially Sarah. They were going to be crushed when he wrote and told them. He sighed. Nothing to do now. It was a deal he’d see through.

  At the wagon, Rafe came around to gently lift his bride-to-be. As he set her in her seat, his eyes caught that dress. Real marriage or not, he hated for folks to view his fiancée in such a get-up. She looked positively…well, like a starving orphan. Something twisted in his gut. That was exactly what she was.

  Inside the church, four people puttered around, putting out fresh flowers, sweeping, and arranging books. They all stopped in their duties when they came in. An aging gentleman with white hair, and a small woman with equally white hair, stepped towards them.

  “Pastor Barnett.” Rafe greeted him as they shook hands.

  “Ah, Rafe. All ready?” The older man smiled, his face wreathed in wrinkles. “My wife, Esther.”

  The tiny woman approached with a big smile.

  Rafe nodded before turning to Jubilee. “This is Jubilee.”

  Esther stepped forward and put both hands on Jubilee’s cheeks. “Why, you are practically the spitting image of my daughter, Fanny Nell.”

  Jubilee’s eyes opened wide.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I certainly didn’t mean to startle you.” The woman took her by her hand and patted it. “Why don’t you and I step next door and let these men tend to the details?”

  * * *

  Jubilee turned, eyes on Rafe, fully engaged in conversation with Pastor Barnett, then mutely followed the strange woman.

  “We don’t have too many weddings here, so this is a real treat. That’s why I had my sister and her husband come in and get the church ready. I thought some nice fresh flowers would dress the church up on your special day.”

  Jubilee said nothing, aware she was being pulled into the residence next to the church. It must be the Barnett’s home. Esther guided her through the house, not stopping until they reached a back bedroom. Jubilee’s eyes swept the immaculate room, coming to rest on the silver-backed hairbrush set lying on the dressing table.

  “Now, you sit here,” the woman urged, patting a quilt-covered bed, and Jubilee seated herself on the edge.

  The woman swept over to a large armoire and swung the doors open. To Jubilee’s surprise, the closet overflowed with dresses. After pulling a stool over to climb up, Esther searched a moment before bringing down a frilly peach one.

  “Now I realize this is a bit out of fashion, but I believe this outfit is a near-perfect fit.”

  What? Did this woman intended to give her a dress? She swallowed as she studied the gorgeous fabric. Never had she even been close to such a creation, let alone worn one. She started to speak, but Esther was quicker.

  “Fanny Nell’s Aunt Ruby, who lived in New York, delighted in sending her the newest dresses. Why, Fanny never even wore this one.” The woman stroked the fabric and removed an imaginary speck of lint before snapping her attention back to Jubilee. “Here, let me help you.”

  Jubilee stood with her hands up. “Oh, ma’am, I can’t wear your daughter’s clothing.”

  The woman’s face grew puzzled. “Whyever not?”

  Jubilee could only shake her head and stare at the peach creation.

  Esther fluffed the ruffles. “You don’t like this one? Why, there’s several more. You can have your choice.”

  “Oh, no, nothing like that. That’s the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen.”

  The woman smiled. “Well, I do believe it complements your coloring. Your dark eyes and golden skin will look absolutely glowing in peach.”

  Jubilee dared to touch the fabric. Oh, the material was heavenly. She stepped away. “I just couldn’t.”

  Esther laid the garment across the bed and approached Jubilee. She placed one hand on Jubilee’s cheek and her weathered blue eyes searched hers.

  “Now, why deny this old woman’s desire? Look at all these dresses.” She swept her arm to the armoire. “I can’t wear a one of them. Wouldn’t want to if I could. They were Fanny Nell’s, and she’s been gone near thirty years now. You’d do me and Fanny an honor by taking one.”

  Jubilee stared at the woman. Never had anyone been so kind. Finally, she gave a small nod, and Esther squealed in glee, unfastening the tiny buttons on the beautiful dress as she chattered like a magpie.

  “Now, this one has a matching bonnet and bag, which is handy for going about town. It can easily be worn to church, if you so desire. We’d love to have you both in morning service. Can’t tell you what a blessing it is to meet a new couple. Does this old heart good, and I know Raymond prays for it all the time. Young folks are the growth of the church.”

  Before Jubilee could think, the gorgeous garment settled on her shoulders. The coolness of the silk gave her a shiver. Esther directed her to the oval, full-length mirror in the corner. Jubilee stared at her reflection. It hung around her waist a bit, but the garment had transformed her from a ragamuffin to a lady. Esther buzzed about her, pinning the skirt before directing her to remove the garment again.

  “It’ll take a few moments to tuck these in, dear.” Esther pulled a needle and thread from a basket near the bed.

  Jubilee stood in her threadbare chemise while Esther sewed.

  “Now if you get in that trunk at the end of the bed, you’ll find a fresh crinoline to hold this dress out. I believe one will fit you.” She licked the thread and attempted to insert it into the eye of the needle.

  Instead of going to the trunk, Jubilee walked to her, pulled the needle and thread from her hand, and in one deft motion threaded the needle.

  “Why, thank you. You’re a wonder. My old eyes can hardly thread it through anymore.”

  Esther’s hand drew out a long stitch. “Don’t forget the trunk.
”

  Jubilee sighed, tired of fighting the inevitable. A plethora of white, lacy underclothes popped out when the lid lifted. How did one come to own so many fine things?

  “See, you’re really doing me a favor.” The woman laughed softly. “My oldest son has harped on me for years to get rid of all this.” She sighed, and her gaze grew sad. “I just can’t.”

  Jubilee ran a hand over the soft material. “When you said Fanny Nell was, gone, did you mean she’s passed?”

  Esther’s eyes deepened with sorrow when she glanced up. Her busy hands rested in her lap. She nodded.

  “Yes,” she said. “She got the pox at seventeen. Never had been strong, and it took her quick. Plumb broke my heart.”

  For a minute she sat, looking far back over the years, before sighing and getting back to work.

  “She’s with the Lord now and there ain’t a better place.” A sad smile crossed her face. “I know she’d be as happy as I am to share a few things with you. Go ahead. Pick any one you want.”

  Jubilee watched her stitch, her mind on a young girl dying before she’d even lived. Then she dipped her head and began digging through the beautiful things. How would she choose? In the end, Esther whisked one of the stiff crinolines from the chest and helped Jubilee dress. With Esther’s skilled hands, the garment fit her like a glove, the puckers adding volume to her thin waist. Jubilee fingered the silky ruffles of the skirt and stared at herself in the mirror.

  “Well, now, let’s work a little magic with your hair.” Esther guided Jubilee to a chair. Meekly, she obeyed.

  Esther continued to chat as she combed, braided, and tucked. A surreal feeling captured Jubilee, like a lovely dream. When she’d finished, Esther led her to the mirror and Jubilee squinted at herself. Her hair had been brushed to a shine and wrapped to the back of her head, where the locks hung in vibrant waves. She caught her breath and touched her coifed hair. I’m a stranger.

  After grabbing a brown ribbon from her sewing basket, Esther whisked her to the back door once again. Pausing outside, the older woman picked white tulips from her flower bed. The older woman’s stories never paused as she wrapped a brown ribbon around the fragrant flowers’ stems.

  “Every bride should have a bouquet. Yes, oh yes. Pretty as a spring day.” She presented them to Jubilee’s trembling hands and looked her over. “Now, I suspect your groom awaits, so we must hurry. We’ve kept them long enough.”

  Jubilee swayed as the church door swung open, trying to adjust to the dim interior. A large, firm hand caught her arm. Rafe. Gracious, the man was tall. Her eyes searched his for a moment, and his gaze swept over her hair and dress. A frown settled between his brows, and he released her. She took a shaky breath and stepped away. He hadn’t approved. Well, it wasn’t as if they married for love. Rubbing her arm where he had touched her, she wasn’t sure why his disapproval shook her.

  Biting her lip and dabbing at the moisture in her eyes, she stepped toward Pastor Barnett. The contents of her stomach rocked, and she had a horrible feeling the roast beef might make a reappearance. A hot wave washed over her and she swallowed. She was only vaguely aware Rafe had stepped next to her. Pastor Barnett held his Bible aloft. Jubilee closed her eyes as her stomach rolled again. Rafe mumbled something, and she opened her eyes. Pastor Barnett looked at her expectantly, leaning slightly forward with a small smile pinned to his face. Bile gathered in her throat.

  “I do.” She fought the nausea for a few moments more before hearing, ‘…the power vested in me.’

  Her stomach lurched, and she took flight toward the side door, her hand firmly clamped over her mouth. Around the back of the church she sailed, before throwing herself, and the contents of her stomach, all over the grass. When the heaving stopped, she rolled over and lay on her side, covering her face with her hands. Please don’t let them find me. The thought had barely run through her mind when a large hand touched her arm. “Please, leave me.”

  She could hear Esther’s melodic voice approaching and wished she were at home where she’d spring up and run for the woods. Instead, strong arms gathered her, and suddenly she floated.

  “Please, no.”

  “Oh, dear, oh dear, the poor thing. Let’s get her into the house.” Esther’s voice appeared much closer.

  Someone pressed a handkerchief into her hand. Jubilee buried her face in the strong column of Rafe’s neck. Before she protested, her new husband answered.

  “I think it’s best if I took her home.”

  The floating continued and Jubilee clenched her eyelids closed.

  “You’re more than welcome to spend a few nights with us until she’s up and ready.” Esther spoke again.

  Jubilee grabbed tightly onto Rafe’s collar. He cleared his throat and stretched his neck. She let go of his shirt.

  “No, she’ll be much more comfortable at home.”

  He placed her in the back of the wagon, and Esther brought a quilt to cover her. She buried her head under the blanket and let the tears squeeze through her lashes. In the background, she heard Rafe thanking the couple, then the wagon began to move. She was married again. Married to another stranger. She stuffed the edge of the quilt in her mouth to stifle the sobs.

  * * *

  Rafe mentally wrestled with himself all the way home. He hated that she was sick and knew the stress of marrying him had brought the illness on. Yet, if he hadn’t married her, she’d be homeless. But she’d be free. If only she hadn’t appeared all dolled up. He didn’t like her being so…attractive. It was much easier dealing with a homeless young orphan.

  How did a dress and a few hairpins make such a difference? He squelched the emotion down. Didn’t matter. Didn’t matter a hill of beans. He was here to make this farm become successful and, by dog, he would. No brown-eyed doe-child-turned-woman would waylay him in the process. And what was his problem anyway? So she was pretty. So what? His heart still bore open sores from the agony Rosemary had inflicted.

  No, this arrangement was for the best. In the long run, Jubilee would have a home, and she’d be a good housekeeper, laundress, and gardener. Yes, this was for the best. She was just his…employee, that was all. He had to keep that in mind. She’d recover, and would realize all of this was for the best. He’d just about convinced himself of this when she snuffled. She was crying under that quilt. He frowned and grunted.

  He was definitely a mean, low-down sack of bones, that’s what he was. He gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. It’d take a miracle to right this situation, and Rafe wasn’t sure he believed in them anymore.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Despite Rafe’s misgivings, life fell into a pattern on the farm with Jubilee. He saw little of her during the first few weeks, as if she were hiding out. He had no doubt she was, but he found plenty to keep himself busy. He’d stored the food items for Jubilee in the cabin, noting her distance with some amusement as he carried in the huge bags.

  His first project was repairing the hole in the roof. Then he finished reconstructing the entire front porch. Happy with the outcome, he decided the time had been well spent. Still, he knew he had to get at the fields. The new pair of oxen he’d invested in would be a great improvement over Jubilee’s one-man shoveling team.

  Rafe rounded the house with his axe, intending to cut more firewood before harnessing the oxen to the plow. When his eyes fell to the woodpile, he stopped short. The height remained nearly the same as last week. Did the woman use any fuel? The back door swung open and Jubilee gave a start, her eyes huge.

  “Mornin’.” He dipped his head in greeting, wondering at the same time if she would ever meet him without fear.

  She bit her lip as she eyed the axe. “Morning.”

  He motioned to the stack. “I thought you’d near be out at this point. How come you have so much wood left?”

  He set his hand high against the cabin and leaned against the wall. She closed the door a little more, and Rafe realized he’d been a bit abrupt. He’d have to tone it down to gain h
er trust. His eyes shifted down, but she hid behind the door. He knew her well enough now to imagine one of her fingers spinning a nervous circle in her skirt fabric. He shifted his gaze to her face, knowing she watched every move he made. She gave that thin, one-shouldered shrug.

  “I don’t know. Preparing a meal doesn’t require much of a fire.” Again the shrug.

  She only used fuel to cook? He cocked his head. “You ain’t been keeping a fire?”

  He took a step towards her. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head like a child in trouble. Rafe grunted and pulled the axe from his shoulder to let it swing to his side, his hand wrapped around the wooden handle. Jubilee closed the door a bit more.

  Rafe scratched his neck. “Listen, Jubilee. I want you to burn wood anytime you’re cold. Don’t suffer through this chilly weather when you’ve got plenty of fuel out here. I don’t mind keeping you supplied, you understand?”

  Her head bobbed up and down.

  He took a deep breath. This trust thing would develop, or at least he hoped so. Just blamed frustrating for her to fear him so much. He stuck his free hand into his pocket.

  “All right. After breakfast, I’m off to plow the west field. On Saturday, I’d like to set out the seed in the garden, and I’d appreciate you being there to see where everything is planted. The weeding and harvesting will be part of your chores.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  He nodded and started on his way to the barn when she called to him. He stopped and watched her disappear into the cabin, then return carrying a colorful quilt. She approached and handed it to him. “What’s this?”

  She stepped back before she replied. “For you. The barn must get cold, too.”

  He looked down at the quilt. The simple design in rust, dark green, and mustard squares appeared well-made and heavy. The thickness would definitely stave off the chilly temperatures. He smiled and nodded.