Chapter 33
Jacob spent the next weeks staring at the four walls of Obadiah’s tiny cabin. His bruised ribs healed quickly enough, but his leg seared with excruciating pain anytime he tried to walk, making it impossible to escape the old man and his never-ending talk of God.
Jacob had never met a more devout man, and he had never been more perpetually annoyed.
He didn’t know what was worse—being alone all day with absolutely nothing to do, suffocating under the crushing boredom and silence, or having to sit and listen to Obadiah preach and read from his Bible every evening until he could finally close his eyes and block out his voice and drift into the nothingness of sleep.
He knew he was irrationally upset with the trapper.
Obadiah had rescued him, bandaged him, took care of him, and fed him, all out of the goodness of his heart, generously sharing everything he had with Jacob, though he had so little, bearing his surly attitude with a gentle positivity that bordered on the mythical.
But if he let go of this anger, what would he have left?
Nothing. No one. Despair, loneliness, grief, heartbreak.
He didn’t want to face that. Couldn’t face that.
So he kept his anger close, coiled around his heart, feeding it with all the hurt he had endured and letting it sear his insides until there was nothing left but bitter blackness.
This evening, Jacob had managed to hobble over to the chair, gingerly stretching out his broken leg.
The swelling had receded and the bruises were fading, but the deep ache in his bones persisted with such an intensity it drove him nearly mad.
He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain as best he could, and set to reading the only other book Obadiah possessed besides his beloved Bible, The Count of Monte Cristo.
Boy, did that Dumas like to ramble. But with nothing else to do, Jacob had made it a quest to get through the behemoth.
At least he’d figured out where Dantès and Fernand got their names.
Obadiah sat on the little stool near the fire, smoking his pipe and humming to himself, a tangle of leather scraps and tools in his lap and strewn about him. He glanced up at Jacob. “You know what tomorrow is?”
Jacob stared at the page, trying to focus. “The days tend to blur together when you’re stuck in purgatory.”
“Didn’t know my company was so toilsome.”
“It’s not you, just how it is.”
“Well, maybe some Christmas cheer will bring you a little happiness.”
Christmas already? Would she be married by now? Jacob clenched his jaw. “It’d take a miraculous amount of cheer to bring me happiness right ’bout now.”
“So you’re determined to pout for the rest of your life?”
Jacob’s eyes narrowed. “I ain’t poutin’.”
“Really? ’Cause you ain’t stopped scowlin’ since you got here.”
Jacob put down his book and crossed his arms. He was not pouting. “Listen, old man. You don’t know the half of what I’ve gone through. Just leave me be.”
“All right, all right, no need to get all ornery. Just thought that a little Christmas celebration could make a body happy no matter what was goin’ on.”
“There’s no point in celebratin’ when you got nothin’ and no one to share it with.”
“You got me,” Obadiah said with a crooked grin.
Jacob sighed, disarmed as usual by this kind and crazy old man. “You know what I mean, Obadiah. Listen, I appreciate all you done for me. And I’ll pay you back somehow, you have my word.”
The old man waved a dismissive hand. “It’s nothin’, son. All in a day’s work as a laborer in the Lord’s vineyard.”
Jacob suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.
Obadiah turned back to the leather in his lap.
He’d been working on this project for almost a week now, and for the life of him, Jacob couldn’t figure out what it was supposed to be.
Some part of a harness? But the pieces were much too small, even if it was meant for Dantès.
The wolfdog dozed on the other side of the fire.
“You gonna tell me what that is yet?” Jacob asked.
“Uh-uh,” Obadiah said, squinting down a thin length of pliable leather. Laces maybe? “Don’t know if it’ll even work yet, so I’ll just keep it to myself for now.”
“Can I help?”
“No, no. It’s almost done. You just sit and rest. You’re doin’ exactly what you need to be doin’.”
“I’m doin’ exactly nothin’. Don’t seem right.”
Obadiah flashed a gap-toothed grin. “I’ll put you to work soon enough. Enjoy your life of leisure for a spell. Let someone else take care of you.”
Jacob huffed. He hated being treated like an invalid.
Although, now that he thought of it, there was that one time he had secretly enjoyed it.
His blood warmed thinking of Kate ever so gently caring for his cracked ribs.
He scowled. She was the whole reason he was in this mess in the first place.
He turned back to his book. He read the same sentence again.
Then again. And again. He snapped the book closed.
Obadiah glanced over at him. “Somethin’ on your mind?”
“Nothin’ to bother you with.”
“What’s the point in havin’ company if not to be bothered by them? Come on, son. Out with it.”
Jacob scrubbed a hand over his unkempt beard. “I just can’t seem to forget her.”
“The woman you’re runnin’ from?”
Jacob laughed bitterly. “Yeah.”
“What’s her name again?”
“Kate.”
“What’s she like?”
“Doesn’t matter now.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s engaged to another man! Might even be married already.”
“Ah,” Obadiah said softly. “Why don’t you tell me about her?”
“What’s the point? She’s lost now. I need to forget her. Clear my head.”
“Might be if you talked ’bout her,” the old trapper mused, “talked ’bout what happened, you’d be able to let her go.”
“Maybe,” Jacob said despondently, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. “Or maybe it’ll just bring the hurt back up to the surface for me to experience all over again.”
“Well, seems like you’re hurtin’ already. Might as well give it a try.”
Jacob crooked a bitter smile. “That’s true enough.”
Obadiah punched another hole in the leather he worked. “I’m all ears.”
“Where do I start?”
“The beginnin’s usually a good place.”
“It’s a long story.”
Obadiah’s eyes twinkled in the firelight. “We got nothin’ but time.”
So Jacob told him everything. About the trail, about Kate, about the life he’d dreamed of with her by his side, about how his heart had shattered when he discovered she was engaged to Andrew.
He even talked about his past, his childhood, losing his mother and brother and about his deadbeat father.
The old trapper listened intently, his hands working all the while.
It felt surprisingly good to just get it off his chest, to dive deep into the journey his heart had taken.
It was like opening the cask of all his pent-up anger, and as the words flowed out of him, so too did the rage he held inside.
It left him bereft. Empty. And desperately sad.
“You still love her,” Obadiah said simply.
“Yeah.”
“Even after everythin’?”
Jacob heaved a sigh. “Even after everythin’.”
Obadiah was quiet for a long time, working his leather, pipe smoke drifting up around his head, the only sound the crackling of the fire. Then he asked a question. “What does it mean to love someone?”
Jacob frowned. “Well, you know, you love them. You feel for them. You want to be with them.”
“But what does it mean to truly love someone?”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
Obadiah put down his tools and leaned forward. “What does it mean to truly love someone? Do you love someone for what they give to you? How they make you feel? Or do you love someone simply for who they are, givin’ all that you have for their happiness, no matter the cost?”
Jacob crossed his arms. “What are you sayin’?”
“I’m sayin’, Jacob, that it sounds like you have loved Kate for what she gave to you, for how she made you feel.
She gave you the peace you’d been cravin’.
She was the home you’d never had. She centered you, gave you purpose.
And you loved her for it.” The old man’s blue eyes were bright and intense.
Jacob squirmed under the weight of his gaze.
“But to truly love someone, you love them just for who they are, not for what they give you. You want their happiness above everythin’, even if it means breakin’ your own heart in the process.
True love is sacrifice, Jacob. You give all that you have for the good of the other person.
Now, it seems to me that you’ve been rather selfish. ”
Jacob bristled. “Selfish? I crossed half a continent twice over just to tell her I loved her, and she threw it in my face! And you call that selfish?”
“And there you go again, talkin’ about what you did or did not get out of the equation.” Obadiah leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “I’m gonna tell you a story, son, and maybe you’ll learn a thing or two from it, so you listen good and hard.”
“Not like I got a choice in the matter,” Jacob grumbled sourly.