Chapter 33 #2
Obadiah took his pipe out of his mouth and gestured with it, continuing like Jacob hadn’t spoken.
“I know a man who went through some trials here on earth. He was the kindest, most generous, most lovin’ man you could ever imagine.
All he wanted was to teach people about God.
But you know what? His friends didn’t listen to him.
His family thought he was crazy. People spat on him, chased him outta their towns.
” Jacob had a suspicion he knew who Obadiah was talking about.
And he wanted nothing to do with Him. “One of his closest friends betrayed him, sold him out, got him sentenced to death. And you know what he said when he faced his execution? ‘Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.’ Now that”—he punctuated the word by jabbing a knobby finger in Jacob’s direction—“is true love. To lay down one’s life for the good of another.
Jesus calls us to love sacrificially, to serve others wholeheartedly, to deny ourselves to follow the path He calls us to tread.
Now let me ask you: Are you lovin’ sacrificially?
Are you denyin’ yourself for the good of others?
Or do you love Kate simply for what she can give to you? ”
“I don’t have to listen to this!” Jacob said and shot out of his chair.
Then the pain hit, and he crumpled to the ground with a vicious curse.
Obadiah rushed over to help him up, but Jacob flung his hand away.
He hauled himself up with the chair and hobbled over to his coat, shrugging into it.
“I need some air,” he growled, and flung open the door to the frozen, inky night.
He heard Obadiah whisper something, and then Dantès was threading himself around his legs and out into the cold.
“Suit yourself,” Jacob said to the hound and slammed the door with enough force to rattle the snowshoes hanging on the wall.
Jacob limped away from the warm little cabin, the foot of his bad leg catching on drifts of snow, a string of curses peppering the quiet night.
His breath bloomed in white clouds haloed in moonlight, and sweat popped out on his brow as he hobbled from tree to tree.
He flexed his fingers. He should have brought his gloves.
No way he was going back there now. Dantès kept pace beside him.
“So he thinks I need a nursemaid? That crazy old coot thinks he knows a lot of things,” Jacob grumbled.
“Thinks he’s the world’s authority on love.
As if an old bachelor hidin’ out in the middle of nowhere knows anythin’ about love.
” He paused to catch his breath and rest his leg.
Dantès sat down at his feet. “You know what I think? I think he likes bein’ holier than everyone around him.
And he’s so lonely he’ll just stick his nose into anyone’s business who’s close enough to spit on.
Selfish? He don’t know nothin’. I loved her!
Still do.” Dantès woofed quietly and Jacob reached down to scratch his head.
“You know she can ride like nothin’ you’ve ever seen?
Wouldn’t put it past her to tame a wild mustang.
She’s somethin’ else, that one.” He smiled sadly up at the moon.
“Kate’s the best thing that ever happened to me. ”
Jacob winced at his own admission, hearing Obadiah’s voice in his head.
Selfish. Was it true? Had he really just loved her for what she gave him?
It’s not like it was wrong to receive something from another person.
She made him a better man, gave his dreary life a sunshine that it hadn’t seen in a long time.
Of course it wasn’t just one sided. He gave her plenty in return.
He gave her … he frowned, trying to articulate his thoughts.
How did he make Kate’s life better? Well, he loved her, that’s how.
Jacob grinned to himself. And oh boy, could he ever kiss her.
Just as quickly his smile faded. But is that all he could offer? Just some fleeting moments of passion?
“We’ve got to look at it logically, Dantès,” he said quietly to the wolfdog, hunching his shoulders and sticking his rapidly freezing hands in his armpits, staring out through the black pines that watched him like sentinels in the night.
He made a list in his mind. He cared for her.
He respected her. He valued what was most important to her.
Didn’t he? Jacob thought of Kate’s faith, and his brow furrowed.
That was one thing they didn’t see eye to eye on.
But that shouldn’t matter that much. It didn’t to him. But maybe it did for her.
Then Jacob saw her. Truly saw her. Like blinders had been lifted from his eyes, he saw every part of who she was without the rose-colored haze of his infatuation.
Kate’s faith was the core of who she was.
And he didn’t share it. Had outright dismissed it.
How could he fully love her if he didn’t care about that part of her life?
It was her life. Is that why she had accepted Andrew’s proposal?
Because he was a man who shared her faith?
Jacob had to believe that Kate cared for him.
Their connection was real and deep. Then why had she rejected him?
Because he didn’t believe in God? He let out a bitter laugh.
How rich. That he would lose the love of his life because he had rejected the God who had taken everything else from him.
If he had only shared her faith, he wouldn’t have lost her.
He shook his head in fatalistic disbelief.
Obadiah was right. And it was all Jacob’s fault.
Jacob hobbled back to the cabin, shame and loss weighing down his every movement.
He opened the door. Obadiah was already snoring on his pallet in front of the fire.
Dantès padded over and curled up next to his master, gray head resting on his massive paws.
Jacob cringed. He’d taken an old man’s bed, grumbled incessantly for weeks, and yelled at him for being entirely correct in his assessment of Jacob’s innermost being.
He slipped out of his coat and hung it on a nail by the door.
He hobbled as quietly as he could to the bed.
Jacob found a wrapped parcel lying on the dark buffalo hide.
A note was pinned to it. For your leg. Merry Christmas.
Obadiah. Jacob carefully unwrapped the package.
The old man’s tangle of leather scraps lay inside.
He held it up and finally realized what it was.
A splint. An expertly crafted one, perfectly fitted with laces down the length of it to adjust however it was needed.
It even had slots with smoothly whittled staves in it to be rigid enough to hold his still-healing leg in place but able to be removed for a more fluid and malleable support in the later stages of healing.
Jacob scrubbed at his eyes, thankfulness and shame pricking in tandem at his heart.
He’d been an ungrateful, surly wretch for weeks.
And all the while Obadiah had been thinking of him, sacrificing his time and supplies to make sure he had a gift for Christmas, and a gift that would likely allow him the proper use of his leg again.
Jacob couldn’t remember the last time he had been shown such unconditional kindness.
This is exactly the kind of love the trapper had talked about.
Selfless. Sacrificial. He didn’t just talk about it.
He lived it. Even to a stranger who showed up on his doorstep, broken in body and soul.
Jacob sniffed and looked over at Obadiah still snoring softly. He vowed that the old man wouldn’t have to sleep one more night on the ground. He was done being a thankless leech. In the morning, he would get to work.