Chapter 33
Lilly felt weary but happy at what she and the other women had been able to accomplish in the little house. Once she finished the kitchen, she’d gone on to scrub the hardwood floors, wash the windows, and work at stocking the small pantry to bursting with contributions of canned and dry goods.
She’d been so absorbed in the work that she hadn’t realized that several hours had passed. She slipped on her cloak and went outside. There were still some men working here and there on the porch railing and steps, but there was no sign of Jacob. Then a light from the crack in the barn door caught her eye.
She walked over and would have entered when Seth’s voice, raised in unusual frustration, gave her pause. She glanced over her shoulder, then leaned her ear closer to the door, the better to hear.
“Look, just memorize it already! I am not going to teach you to sound it out first. You’ll just look like a fake. Let her think that you can grasp the whole word! And, Jacob, come on, with these drawings it’s not too tough to figure out the word!”
Lilly nearly jumped when her husband’s voice growled in response. “I know how she thinks. She’s not going to buy it unless I—”
“Unless you what, Jacob?” Lilly stood still in front of the now open barn door as the two brothers scrambled guiltily to their feet from where they’d been sitting on stools near the workbench. They both had their coats off and their sleeves rolled up, and each was flushed with angry color. She watched Seth slip something behind his back.
“What are you two doing?” She used her teacher’s voice and had to struggle not to laugh; they both obviously looked like they expected to get into trouble.
Seth smiled, and Lilly suddenly recalled that his charm was usually how he’d gotten out of things when they were in school. She arched an eyebrow and waited.
“Are you through in the house already, sweet schweschder? I was thinking of adding some color to the boy’s room upstairs … do you mind giving me your opinion on some different shades of blue?”
“Later, perhaps.”
She let her gaze trace her husband’s face and noticed that he was looking increasingly caught. Trapped somehow. She didn’t like to see him that way.
“Give me what’s behind your back, Seth Wyse. You may … I mean, please go. I’d like to spend some time alone with my husband.” She deliberately infused an extra bit of warmth into her tone at the suggestion and watched Seth throw a helpless glance at his brother.
“Uh … all right … Jacob was just showing me the artwork in the book you made for him. The sketches are quite well drawn.” He slapped the book into her outstretched hand and grabbed his coat. “I’ll, uh … leave you two alone.” He slid the barn door closed before she could say another word.
Lilly looked down at the creased primer, then at Jacob. He’d turned his back to her, his arms stretched wide as he clutched the edge of the workbench with white knuckles.
“I missed you,” she said softly. “In the house … I didn’t know where you’d gone.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled over his shoulder.
She took a few steps closer to him, admiring the broad width of his back and shoulders in his light blue shirt. She wanted to touch him but knew that he’d probably resist. She might have chosen to walk away, because she had no doubt that he’d been working on the primer with Seth. She didn’t want to embarrass him, but she wondered, both as a teacher and as a woman, how far she might push him to get him to open up about his reading difficulties.
“Danki for showing Seth the book. I’m glad you liked it enough to share it.”
He shrugged and she gazed around the barn, looking for inspiration.
“So … when you teach me to ride … what will you do to help me not be afraid?”
He turned slowly. “What?”
She wet her lips and looked down at the floor. “I know we haven’t had a lot of time to think about it, but the idea of learning to ride. It still scares me, terrifies me, really. I wondered what you’d do to help me.”
“I … I’d tell you not to be afraid. I’ll make sure that you don’t get hurt.”
“Jah, but how can you do that? I’ll probably fall.”
He shook his head. “Nee, that’s not true. It’s often poor teaching that lets a new rider fall. With the right practice and exercises, getting your seat, maintaining the proper body line and balance, there will be less chance of you falling. And if you did … if you did … I promise I’d make it feel better fast.” His voice had taken on a husky timbre that sent shivers of delight across her shoulders, but Lilly kept her focus.
“So … I’ll have to trust you then?”
He took a step closer to her. “Jah, but I promise that you can.”
She lifted the primer between them and he stood still. Then she looked deeply into his eyes. “And I promise that you can trust me, Jacob. I won’t let you fall.”
He stared at her, pain and indecision playing across his expressive face. Finally he swallowed. “I don’t … I don’t want you to find that your husband is a fool, Lilly. Not smart enough …”
Her heart melted at his words and she longed to embrace him but she stood, motionless.
“Jacob, you are so intelligent, so wise, and you could never be a fool. I promise. Please trust me. I will not let you fall.”
He took a deep breath. “I said I’d try. I’ll trust you.”
She felt a thrill of exultation and said a silent prayer to Derr Herr, asking Him for wisdom for the moment.
“Gut. Danki, Jacob. I won’t let you down.”
She stepped to the workbench and let her cloak slide onto one of the stools. “Okay, just right now, I want to ask you one question. One tutoring question.”
He moved closer to her and she could sense the tension in his body. She put out her hand to touch his, letting her fingers play over the rough calluses and long fingers, then sliding her hand up to his wrist and finding the pulse point, beating fast and steady. She sensed that he responded to physical touch, and she kept her hand on his skin until he’d inched beside her and they both stood into the circle of light from the lamp at the workbench. She put aside the primer and turned to him, moving her hand to delicately skim his bare forearm where his sleeve was rolled back.
“What’s the question?” he asked hoarsely.
She let her voice drop, infusing her tone with warmth like the permeating intimacy of a fledgling nest, feathers tight and close and safe.
“I want you to tell me how you feel about reading.”
He stared down at her, torn between the sensations of her touch, her voice, and her very odd question. “How I feel about reading?”
“Jah.”
He cast about in his mind for some answering quip, something to deflect what he understood to be a direct question. He didn’t like to think about how he felt about reading, about how he felt about himself not reading. “I … don’t …”
Her hand had skimmed past the rolled cuff of his shirt and now played along the line of his upper arm. “Do you feel the same way about reading as you do about horses?”
“No,” he answered, appalled at the suggestion.
“So, how is it different?”
He swallowed hard, feeling cornered and unsure. But he’d promised to trust her. He expected her to trust him. And she touched him with such extreme gentleness—butterfly touches, but enough to send sensations tingling through his body.
“Jacob, sei so gut. How do you feel about reading?” She leaned closer to him until he had to blink or feel like he might drown in the deep blue of her eyes.
“I hate it,” he choked.
“I know,” she soothed. “Just like I hate the thought of riding—until you touch me, with your words, your hands. You said once that I didn’t have to do things alone. You don’t have to do this alone, Jacob. You don’t have to read alone. Okay?”
He nodded, feeling torn between sudden tears and kissing her, and he wasn’t sure which would have brought more relief when she dropped her hand and gave him a bright smile. She scooped up the primer and her cloak. “We’d best go home.”
He nodded. “I’ll be along.”
He stood still, taking deep breaths after she slid the barn door closed behind her. He decided then and there that if every tutoring session was like the one he’d just had, life was going to be one endless, delicious torment.