30. Jacob
Jacob
Ipoured my heart out to Viola, forging ahead without restraint, without caution, without a single thought for any of my old plans.
I hovered on the verge of telling her I was falling in love.
And in the middle of Main Street, no less.
My pulse pounded. My palms heated as I clasped her hands.
I focused on the woman before me—only her.
The words rose to my lips, needing only a single breath to break loose into the world.
I inhaled.
I didn’t notice the man rushing toward us.
“George,” Viola said. Then her grip went slack. Her eyes rolled back.
I pulled her close, scooping her up as she went limp in my arms. Over her unconscious form, I met the eyes of a vaguely familiar man who’d appeared out of nowhere. I tightened my arms around Viola, as if strength alone could shield her from whatever had struck her down.
Who was this man? Had he caused this? We stared at each other until I gathered enough sense to whisk Viola the few steps into the Harmony Lake Inn. The man and Jo followed close on my heels.
Viola was swiftly settled in a guest room. Jo shooed the two of us men out while she discreetly loosened Viola’s corset and applied cool compresses to her brow. She promised to call out the moment Viola awakened. The stable boy ran for Doc Nelson.
I stared at the unknown man. Unmoored. I shifted in the hall, instinctively placing myself between him and Viola’s door. Yet I remembered my manners and reached out a hand. “Jacob Jensen. I don’t believe we’ve met, though you seem familiar.”
The man stared at my hand as if I’d offered him a potato, then gripped it with startling enthusiasm.
“George VanMartin, Viola’s brother. Pleased to meet you.
” His smile deepened. “The stationmaster two stops down sent me here, said to seek out the doctor, I… can hardly believe I’ve found her.
” He raked both hands through his sandy hair, which left it sticking out in all directions.
“We worried she might have been fleeing danger,” I said, “but Doc sent a quiet word down the line.”
He glanced toward Viola’s door. “I’d be grateful if you would fill me in. Anything you know. Viola disappeared from our train car almost a week ago, and it’s been like she fell off the face of the earth.”
The family resemblance was unmistakable.
Mercy. Viola might leave with this man—back to her real life.
Not yet… not when I’ve finally found the courage to speak.
My heart thrashed. I motioned to two chairs near a window at the end of the hall and sank into the one closest to me.
I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hands.
I looked toward the mostly closed door down the hall.
“My sister Josephine is in with Viola now, and my parents and two younger siblings are over in the churchyard socializing after the service. Viola has been with our family on our farm east of town ever since she fell from the train and lost her memories.”
“Damnation! Is she all right?”
I took a shaky breath, and George’s earnest concern for Viola helped me to focus. I said, “Really, I should start at the beginning, because it’s an impressive tale.”
As I got into the story, the words rolled off my tongue, and I found it easy to make Viola the heroine.
It was the best story I’d ever told. Caring deeply about the main character made it all come together.
The parts I couldn’t speak—the closeness, her touch, her kiss—I held in my heart, a story meant for me alone.
George hung on my every word, leaning forward in his chair. His affection for Viola rang clear and true.
Even stripped of kissing and romance, it remained a fantastic tale.
When I finished, he smirked and displayed a dimple that was a twin to Viola’s. He flung his arms wide. “It has only been six days. Unbelievable.”
I couldn’t help but grin back. “She is impressive. She remembered nothing of her past, or we would’ve contacted you. When you found us, we were on our way to leave word at the depot to help expand the search?—”
“She’s awake,” Jo called, opening the door just as Doc Nelson reached the top of the stairs. I introduced him to George, and we all went inside.
Viola lay on the bed, pale as a wet sheet on the clothesline, her face troubled.
George and I fumbled into each other as we both rushed to her bedside. I sheepishly yielded the closest position to her brother. Doc cleared his throat, prompting us to shift farther back and give him space to evaluate Viola.
“How do you feel?” he asked softly.
“I saw George on the street, and in a flash, everything flooded in. It’s too much, Doc. I’m drowning in the past.”
“You need rest and time to let everything settle back into place. My recommendation is sleep. Don’t exert yourself in any way until you feel more stable.
” He turned to George and me. “If possible, she should stay here as the ride back to the farm might be too much for her in this state. I’ll give her a few drops of laudanum now, which will help her rest.” He produced a vial from his bag.
George took charge. “Yes, of course, I’ll arrange rooms for as long as is needed. Thank you all for your assistance. Viola, my dear, do you need anything?”
“Rest.” She appeared on the verge of sleep and burrowed farther under the covers.
Jo sat on the bed beside Viola and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Do you want me to stay? I’ll sit with you all night if you need me.”
“No need to fuss over me, Jo. I’ll be fine.”
Viola focused on me, and I stepped forward to grasp her hand in both of mine. “Viola.” I fought the fierce urge to raise her hand to my lips. But then her eyes closed, and I had no excuse to stay at her bedside. I laid her hand on the coverlet and shuffled to the door.
George followed close behind. In the hall, he said, “I’m forever beholden to you both and your family.
I admit—I had despaired. Worried I would never find her.
” The struggle he had been through was written on his face.
“Thank you for keeping her safe.” He swallowed.
“I hope you will allow me to express my gratitude when Viola has recovered from her shock, and I can better focus.”
I nodded.
He said, “I hate to ask more of you, but would one or both of you please sit with Viola for a short while? I don’t want to leave her alone, but I need to telegraph our father. He’s been worried to death about her, and I want to share the good news as soon as possible.”
Jo took one look at me and said, “I’ll go and tell our family what’s happened. Jacob, you sit with Viola.”
I returned to Viola, leaving the door open for propriety’s sake.
I pulled a stool beside her bed, took her small hand in mine, and turned it over to check on her healing blisters.
I pressed a kiss to her palm and once again ran my thumb slowly across her soft skin.
I wanted to gather her into my arms and never let her go.
Now that she’d remembered her past, I’d become barely a dot on the map of her life—an unnamed crossroads.
Her face was slack in sleep except for a tiny crease between her brows, which I’d never seen before.
I massaged the crease with my fingertip until it smoothed away.
My fingers brushed her jaw. I didn’t know what to do, how to help.
Didn’t know how to hold on. My heart was in no shape to offer advice.
Too soon, George returned and pulled up a chair.
I released Viola’s hand. “I’ll get my family home from church and ride back to town with a few supplies, spare clothes, and such for Viola.”
“You have my thanks, Mr. Jensen.” George offered his hand.
Again, I shook the hand of the man who would likely take her away from me. “Please, call me Jacob.”
“Then you must call me George.” He tilted his head and studied my face. “Would you join me for dinner? Say around seven.”
Dinner. A simple word—yet nothing felt simple about the way he measured me.
Did he see only a foolish farm boy?
Did he see the depth of my feelings?
Did he see I would fight for her?
Because she was worth fighting for. Come what may.
“Seven.” I nodded once. “I’ll be here.”
The sun hovered a hand’s breadth above the western horizon as I rode back to town. George had said seven o’clock. I left my family’s worried faces behind me. The Inn’s private dining parlor was empty except for George, who rose and clapped my shoulder.
Viola continued to sleep upstairs and wasn’t expected to wake until morning after Doc Nelson’s laudanum. A young housemaid sat at her bedside while we dined, ready to fetch us if she woke sooner than expected.
Over dinner, George told me about his search for Viola and asked after my family and Harmony Lake. Despite the stress of the situation, it was hard not to like him, which only made things worse.
Our discussion turned toward Viola.
He said, “She was quiet and withdrawn for a time, until she blossomed into the confident little schemer we all know and love.”
I grinned. “Not that she’s a schemer, exactly. But she’s resilient and strong-willed and likes to have a plan. She believes in control.”
George barked out a laugh. “You know her well. Means her scheming must come from somewhere other than her memory.”
A telegram arrived for George. He scanned it quickly. “Father is sending our car and Viola’s maid. They’ll be here in two days. We’ll head home to Chicago as soon as Viola can travel.”
My jaw tightened like a gopher trap snapping shut.
The outline of the train depot was visible through the window.
I’d spent so many hours on the platform, planning adventures and collecting stories, nurturing a future beyond farming.
In the lowering sun, the depot sat in deep shadow, its windows dark.
In two days, Viola would walk across that platform and out of my life.
But maybe she wouldn’t want to go. Maybe she would choose me. Mercy. Dangerous to hope.
George folded the telegram and picked up his fork. “Best meal I’ve had in ages.” He pulled a face. “Train food.”
“Was Viola on some sort of tour of the country? Off to the west coast?”
He hesitated as if weighing how much truth to give me. “She was on the train because my father told her she had to get married, and she hatched a plan to stay with our aunt in Seattle for the summer.”
I choked on my bite, thumped a fist to my chest, then gulped down water.
“So…” I cleared my throat. “She’s engaged?”
“Viola engaged?” He chuckled. “No way. She’s sworn never to marry.”
I took a bite but tasted nothing. Of course, she had plans before me… but maybe I’d changed her as she’d changed me.
“I always thought it had to do with our mother’s death. But perhaps it’s also because the men of our acquaintance view her as an opportunity to increase their wealth and power.”
“What?”
His gaze, Viola’s shade of green, dropped to the table. “I don’t mean to be indelicate.” He rubbed a fingertip along the edge of his glass. “But she’s an heiress with a vast fortune.”
Heiress?
My hopes guttered out. Dinner continued.
George shared more about their family and Chicago.
I watched the door. Maybe she’d wake and ask for me.
Maybe an heiress could love a farmer… but was love enough to close the distance between us?
Viola slept through my entire visit. There was no chance to speak to her, but what was there to say?
I hauled myself home and found my parents waiting with only a single candle burning.
No fire was lit, as it was unseasonably warm for early June, yet I shivered—couldn’t stop shivering.
I pulled a blanket from the basket and spread it over my lap as I sank onto the couch.
It was the quilt we’d used to cover her that first day. My fingers ran over the neat stitching.
I didn’t look toward Ma or Pa when I finally spoke, afraid their sympathetic eyes would smother me.
“She’s rich. An heiress from Chicago. Influential.
Her father owns or runs the Chicago newspaper.
Maybe both. I can’t quite remember what her brother said.
And she has vowed never to marry. Never to love.
And she is leaving in two days by private train car. ”
“Oh dear,” Ma said, “Jacob?” She made as if to rise from her chair.
I raised my hand to stop her.
She settled back and asked, “Did you see her? Was she awake?”
“No. No, I didn’t see her.” I will probably never see her again. Best to let her go without a ruckus.
“Well, my boy,” said Pa, “we must give that sweet young lass a proper send-off. An un-for-get-table farewell party. She is leaving in two days? That means it will be tomorrow. Ma, you write up an invitation all fancy-like, and Jo can ride to town with it in the morning while the boys are doing chores.” He slapped his thigh.
“All settled,” he said with his lopsided grin. “Time for bed.”
I pulled him from his chair, and we shuffled down the hall.
“My in-trep-id boy, it’s time to show your fearlessness and fortitude.”
“Just spit it out, Pa.”
“What I mean is—she is worth fighting for.”
An heiress and a farmer.
Impossible.
And I was anything but fearless.