17. Viola
Viola
Jacob was as kind as I remembered. The nameless melody in my mind slipped into a minor key as he left to do something with hay.
But why? I don’t know him… don’t even know myself.
I might be married or betrothed. The thought sent a shiver through me.
Did my admiration for Jacob betray someone locked in my memories?
Beth touched my arm. “Vee, will you do chores with us? Like Doc said?”
I rolled up my sleeves and tried to look like I knew which end of the broom belonged on the floor.
We began in my room. I tugged the coverlet, but somehow the bed looked worse than before.
Beth shot me a sidelong glance and showed me how to tuck it under the pillow. “You don’t remember how to make a bed? Glad you remember how to eat.”
“I know, it’s odd what I remember and what I don’t.”
Jo said, “I bet Doc’s friend would know. He would probably write a study about you.”
“More likely, he’d tell a cautionary tale about the girl silly enough to fall off a train.”
Jo straightened the chairs. “Jacob might tell a story about you someday, but I’m certain he wouldn’t make you silly.”
But I’m only a blank page… a song with no notes.
Beth said, “Oh, yes. He’d make you brave and beautiful, and it’d have a happy ending.”
By the time we reached Jacob and Erik’s room, I could make the crease under his pillow—a tiny victory—but the neat edges still eluded me.
Two hours later, sweat clung to my temples.
I collapsed in the shade of the front porch, feeling like a stranger inside my own skin.
My fingers flexed and pressed in familiar patterns against my thighs as if playing the nameless music in my head.
The barn door’s slow, plaintive creak drifted through the breeze, falling into time with the tune.
Mrs. Jensen untied her apron and joined us.
Jo pointed out the orchard and her garden.
“If it doesn’t rain in the next few days, I’ll have to water the garden,” she said.
“I don’t look forward to hauling all those buckets.
” She laughed. “My back hopes for clouds on the horizon. But don’t tell Jacob. He’s betting on sunshine.”
Beyond her garden, a towering hill rose to the south. Beth assured me there was a lake full of fish behind the low ridge to the east.
Jo summed up our morning. “Either she really is a princess who’s never done chores, or it’s still too soon for familiar tasks to bring back her memories.”
Beth grinned. “I think you’re a princess. Sorry, Vee, but you have no skill with chores.”
“Don’t give up on me yet, Beth. I’m bound to get better.” I winked at Beth. “As you cleverly pointed out, I couldn’t get any worse.”
Two figures descended the steep hill path and approached the well in the front yard. Jacob’s shirt hung open at the collar, damp with sweat and clinging to the muscles of his chest and shoulders. The brothers refilled their canteens.
Jo noticed my gaze. “Cutting hay is a sweaty job, even for Comet.”
“He’s our dog,” Beth said. The white-and-brown dog lapped water from a low bowl, tail pounding Jacob’s ankles. The brothers waved in our direction, then headed back over the hill, the dog bouncing at their heels.
Mrs. Jensen stood to return to the kitchen, but urged us to rest a bit longer. “Young lady, you spent most of yesterday in a swoon from that bump to the head. Don’t overexert yourself and bring on more fainting.”
I nodded. My body felt limp, the ache in my head dull but not gone. I pressed fingertips to my temples and found some relief.
As soon as Mrs. Jensen was out of earshot, Jo launched into her usual friendly chatter—this time about her brother.
“Jacob was supposed to leave on a grand adventure when he turned eighteen. Wanted to hop on a train and travel all over. Talked about it for years. But Pa had his apoplexy a few weeks before he was to go.”
“So he gave it up?”
“Duty and responsibility.” She shook her head. “He can be grumpy as a bear who slept in a patch of burning weed with a thistle for a pillow.”
“And missed breakfast,” added Beth.
“Yet he always looks toward the track when he hears a train whistle.” She huffed out a little laugh. “Lucky he’s obsessed with trains, or you might still be lying undiscovered alongside the track.”
Jo turned to Beth. “Excellent work with the story request this morning. When was the last time he had such a spark?”
She threw me a teasing look. “Or maybe the spark was because of you, Vee. He wouldn’t leave your side after he carried you over that hill yesterday except to wash up.”
I could hardly imagine walking over the enormous hill, much less carrying someone.
“He’s my brother, so his charms are lost on me, but he’s considered quite a catch around here.” Jo raised her brows at me. “Yet, he’s not courting anyone.”
Fire flared across my skin.
Beth added, “When he’s in a good mood, getting him to tell stories is easy. If he’s extra happy, he whistles better than any songbird you ever heard.”
After a light lunch, the girls returned to their chores, but they sent me off to rest. I lay in the snug bed, quiet but not calm, drifting at the edge of sleep, wondering if I would ever hear Jacob whistle.