29. Viola
Viola
Jacob’s back filled my vision as I sat behind him on the bumpy wagon ride into town.
I shouldn’t have wanted what he couldn’t give.
I remembered the warm softness of the hair at the nape of his neck.
My fingers had threaded through those curls, twisted in his rain-damp hair while his lips covered mine—something I feared would never happen again.
The wagon slowed as we rolled down Harmony Lake’s main street past the train depot, inn, and a long stretch of businesses.
Between the proud facades, I glimpsed quieter side streets lined with tidy houses.
Homes. I drifted past—a boat with no anchor.
Two new houses were going up. The town bustled with people in their Sunday best, all strolling toward the tall white church at the far end of the street.
People who belonged here waved and greeted the Jensens.
Many stared openly when they noticed me in the wagon.
I wished I could tell them where I belonged…
When Jacob helped me down from the wagon, my heart leapt at his warm, gentle touch, but his gaze slid away. I was glad I’d taken a few extra minutes with my hair, not that he’d noticed. He turned back to help his father.
Doc Nelson kindly inquired about my health. I shared my first name as we approached the church.
“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Viola.” Doc clapped a hand on my shoulder. “The rest of your memories can’t be far behind.”
The church bells rang out, calling us inside. Jacob helped his father up the steps, with Doc Nelson taking Mr. Jensen’s other arm. Mrs. Jensen linked arms with me and nodded at her friends and neighbors as we followed the men inside.
We settled into a pew halfway up the aisle. I found myself unexpectedly seated between Jacob and Jo. He finally glanced at me.
Count the flowers, anything, just don’t look at him. But I wasn’t counting flowers. I counted the places his body touched mine in the crowded pew… muscular thigh—one, broad shoulder—two, calf—three, strong arm—four. Then he leaned in, whispered, and his blasted warm breath touched my ear—five.
“Pastor Holmgren is a captivating speaker. I always enjoy his sermons.”
The heat of his breath on my ear sent tingles racing across my skin and a faint, high trill echoing inside my ribs. But there was nothing in his words meant for me. Just noise to fill the silence between us. Not music. The tingling vanished.
The rest of the congregation filed in and found their seats. A blonde, slightly plump young woman seated across the aisle openly appraised me.
Jacob nudged me with his elbow. “Don’t worry about Ellie’s staring. She’s trying to figure out if we’re a couple, as are probably half the people here.”
Including me, I thought.
In a voice far calmer than I felt, I said, “And what do you think they’ve decided?”
“I think they’ve decided to corner Jo and Beth and Ma as soon as the service is over to find out. Discreetly, of course. Mark my words, they will be mobbed as soon as we exit the church.” He patted my hand ever so briefly.
I suppressed a smile.
He whispered, “Your adorable dimple shows when you do that.”
My cheeks heated, dimple and all. Thankfully he didn’t comment on my blush.
We stood for the first hymn. I added my alto to the singing without difficulty.
The notes on the page felt like old friends, and the music filled a space I hadn’t realized was empty.
Jacob sang in a clear baritone beside me.
I felt exactly where I was meant to be. I let the joy of finally finding something familiar pour into my singing.
During the readings, my mind wandered off. He’d said, “I’m so sorry…” But what came next?
Jacob was right. Pastor Holmgren was a talented speaker, and my attention gradually returned to his warm voice and compelling message, which brought a sense of peace.
At the end of the service, Jacob walked me down the steps, then returned to help his father.
Mrs. Jensen appeared at my side as the congregation spilled out of the church and surrounded us.
A group of younger girls pulled Beth away, but I was left with the women.
Jo flitted about, smiling and speaking with the younger women in the crowd.
No one asked directly, though several women hinted there was something between Jacob and me.
Mrs. Jensen deflected the comments brilliantly.
Across the churchyard, Jacob and his father chatted with the men. Mr. Jensen sat on the church steps, smiling and laughing, clearly in his element.
Jacob smirked at the predicted mob around us, and jogged over. The women yielded to him. He stopped before me with a broad grin, despite all the curious onlookers analyzing our interaction.
A triumphant melody swelled in my chest and set my fingers twitching at my skirts.
Mrs. Jensen said, “Seems now would be a good time for you to walk to the train depot and leave your messages.”
I was swept along, arm in arm with Jacob and Jo. We struck out toward the other end of the street. Jo paused for a moment to examine a store window. Jacob and I continued onward. She fell into step a short distance behind us.
Jacob said, “I enjoyed the service and its message. Felt like he was speaking directly to me.”
“Me, too. As if he understood the words I needed to hear to calm my racing thoughts.”
Jacob’s muscles tensed under my hand. “I don’t know what words you need to hear, but I know what I need to say.
I hurt you yesterday. I’m an idiot. Please, Viola, accept my apology.
” He reached his free hand over to cover mine, but didn’t look at me.
He didn’t see the hope flaring too bright behind my eyes.
He sighed. “You must know, hurting you would be the last thing I would ever want to do.”
Fear soured the music of his apology. I replayed his words but couldn’t figure out what they meant for us.
I opened my mouth and words spilled out. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted more than a few kisses, but yesterday, you told me straight out that you don’t want a relationship.”
My steps slowed as my words sped up. “I believe you don’t want to hurt me. You’re not a cruel man. But I am hurt. And confused. And I don’t know what to wish for.”
At my words, Jacob stopped and turned to face me, studying me in a way that stole my breath. He seemed unaware of the looks we were drawing as we stood there in the street.
Jo gave us a wide berth.
People paused to stare.
“Viola, I’m confused, too.”
The rest of the world faded as he spoke. There was only his face. His voice. Him. And dangerous hope.
“I… I told you what I always thought was true. But when the words came out they felt wrong. They told of what my dreams used to be. But that was all… all from the time before you.” He fisted one hand in his hair.
“Before me?”
“You’ve turned me on my head. I stupidly spouted my old ideas without thinking. But—it’s all different now.”
Light streamed into me, fluttering the curtain in my mind. “Please… what do you mean?”
“You…” Jacob leaned in until his lips were inches from mine. “You. Change. Everything.”
My hands were clasped in both of his. When had that happened? We stood staring into each other’s eyes in the middle of the busiest street in town, but I didn’t care. Possibility knocked fear aside, stretching my face into a smile.
He smiled back.
A sound.
“Viola!” I knew that voice. A sandy-haired man rushed toward me.
Without pausing to think, I said, “George!”
And the curtain obscuring my memory vanished.
Every possible note rang out simultaneously.
Painfully out of tune.
My vision blurred. Two worlds crashed together inside me. Memories exploded—too much, too fast.
My mind retreated. I fell into Jacob’s arms. All went black.