53. Jacob
Jacob
The land blurred past the window of my first-class berth.
The train carried me back home—back to my usual burdens and responsibilities, and away from her.
But my thoughts refused to leave her behind, no matter how many miles stretched between us.
I set pen to paper, intending to start on my first submission.
With the freedom purchased by my stories, I would set off toward all the wonders reachable by train. No more biding my time, waiting for responsibilities to ease. I would become more than a farmer, fit my dreams into the space between my duties, and forge a path toward something new.
The extra income would mean help for the farm, repairs long overdue, maybe even the purchase of Mr. Lund’s adjacent farm. A future built by my pen. But if I failed…
The moment I lifted my pen, exhaustion and memory overtook me.
The previous night had been sleepless. I’d come upstairs from the party, but I hadn’t gone to bed.
I sat for hours in the armchair, and even the window’s cool breeze hadn’t touched my restless longing.
I replayed the kiss by the piano and committed every moment we’d spent together to memory, including her so-called manifesto.
Her stinging vow. She planned for cats, but not for me. Not yet. Not in the way I hoped.
Then she appeared in my room like a dream made real. Warm in my arms. Soft against me. She didn’t act like just a friend. Didn’t kiss like just a friend. She called me her Jacob, and in that moment, I was entirely hers. What did that mean for our impossible future?
I would take Pa’s advice and fight.
I would make my own vow.
Write for her.
Fight for her.
Woo her with my words.
Become a man worthy of being chosen.
Dare to hope.
I set my pen to paper, and the words flowed freely at last, finding their way as the land blurred past.