44. Jacob
Jacob
Viola’s eyes flashed with an urgent, indecipherable message as she swept into dinner, her purple skirts swishing around her.
What is it? My jaw tensed. I couldn’t look away.
When she’d burst into the library earlier, I’d been struck by her beauty, but now she looked like a queen.
Maybe the rumors back home weren’t so far off…
A long-lost princess, yes, but one who had chosen her exile and chosen to return. She hadn’t been forced away from me.
My mouth went dry as I pulled out her chair at the head of the table, opposite her father. She was every inch the heiress. Untouchable. Yet still Viola—my Viola, though I had no right to think of her that way. I tucked my chin as I pushed in her chair and whispered, “You are stunning.”
She inhaled sharply, a faint flush rising along the curve of her neck like a secret sign.
An amethyst bracelet glinted at her wrist when she reached for her glass.
So much wealth in such a delicate bauble, worn casually for dinner at home.
The ease with which she wore it proved she was no farmer’s wife.
I soothed the sting with thoughts of the adventures and opportunities ahead. I would not be only a farmer forever.
I filled her in on recent happenings in Harmony Lake and assured her the whole family was well.
She had many questions about home. She even asked about my field of widdle weed.
“Sorry to overwhelm you with questions, Jacob, but I miss my dear friends from Harmony Lake.” She made a strangled little laugh. “Maybe it should be called Friendship Lake, for everyone there is a friend.”
George dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “It’s a friendly place, to be sure. On my journey, I came across another town with a similar name. What was it? Lovebird Lake? Lake Adoration?” He tapped his chin in mock thought. “Jacob, do you know the name?”
Viola glared down the table at her brother.
George brightened. “Lake Union, that was it. Must be hard to think up different names for all those lakes.”
Viola turned back to me. “How was your trip? Did you enjoy the train?” She didn’t ask why I’d come. Wasn’t she curious?
I gently cut through her rambling. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here.”
Viola answered too quickly. “Friends are always welcome. Such a wonderful surprise to find you, my good friend, here now.”
She was doing something strange with her eyebrows. She looked like she was about to sneeze. Or faint. Or both.
“Yes, Viola, I’m glad to be your friend. I’m so fortunate you fell into my life, for now not only do I have you as a cherished friend, but your father has given me?—”
“Oh, yes, I will always call you my friend. Always!” Her voice pitched higher than I’d ever heard it.
If she’d been any other woman, I might have thought her in the throes of hysteria. But this was the woman who ran into a burning house to save me.
No. Couldn’t be hysteria. But something was off—her eyebrows climbed sky-high, and she wasn’t blinking. Was she all right? Perhaps society women gushed unexpectedly about friendship…
“Viola?” I glanced around the table, but George and Victor didn’t seem concerned. If anything, they looked amused.
A glint of light flickered near Viola’s chair, not from her wrist this time, but from the floor. Her amethyst bracelet lay beside her slipper like a fallen crown jewel.
I pushed back my chair, crouched, and leaned forward on one knee to retrieve it.
Viola squeaked out a high-pitched noise that sounded like “Na-hoo,” or maybe “ah-choo.” She clapped both hands over her mouth. Was that a sneeze? I’d never heard her sneeze. Her eyes were enormous, fixed on me as if I’d said something shocking.
“Bless you,” I said. Maybe she was fighting off a cold. Was she trying to hold it in? Jo always sneezes twice, so I waited just in case. But Viola sat frozen, unblinking, not even a twitch. Guess she was a single sneezer. Yet there was a flicker of fear on her face.
“I have something for you,” I said, my voice low and steady, the tone I used on spooked horses.
She didn’t move. Was she even breathing?
I reached for her hand. For one foolish moment, I gave in to memory and imagined kissing her palm. Don’t think about kissing. But society men were always kissing ladies’ hands. Right? It would probably be rude not to. So I bent and brushed a light kiss across her knuckles.
She gasped.
At least she was breathing.
I smiled.
She stared.
Must be exhausted from her trip.
“Your bracelet.” I dangled the ornament before her, swinging it like a pendulum before fastening it around her wrist. Her arm shook beneath my fingers, as if she were silently laughing or perhaps feverish. I pressed her hand and returned to my seat. Hopefully she wasn’t coming down with something.
“As I was saying,” I began, settling back into my chair, “your father and George have given me the opportunity of a lifetime.”
Viola stared at me as though I’d suddenly begun speaking ancient Greek. Her face contorted into a wild expression.
Was she about to sneeze again?
I paused.
But she only stared.
“They want me to write a column for the paper,” I continued, “and invited me here to discuss the idea in person.” As I explained, the tension in her body dissolved.
She sank back into her chair, her eyebrows lowering to a normal range. Her half-lidded eyes blinked again. Thank heavens.
“So,” she said, “they invited you here to discuss an opportunity to write for the paper?”
“Yes. They were exceedingly generous and arranged my whole trip.”
“Shame on them for not telling me.”
George only shrugged, deflecting her reproach with a mischievous grin.
Then she turned back to me, her whole face softening, her voice dropping into that velvety richness I knew too well. “You must accept, Jacob. You will be brilliant. You will do it?”
“Yes, of course. It’s all of my dreams come true.”
For a heartbeat, something flickered across her face. Disappointment? Hurt? But it vanished so quickly I wondered if it had been there at all.
She leaned forward and took my hand, emerald eyes steady on mine in a way that made the whole room fall away. “Congratulations, Jacob. I am beyond pleased for you and promise to be your number one reader and fan.”
Her touch sent something bright and reckless surging through me. I had the strangest urge to sweep her up and spin her until she laughed and shared my joy completely. Instead, I stayed rooted to my seat and let it spill through the simple connection of our hands.
We sat suspended in a long, breathless moment.
Then George coughed, and the spell shattered. When had I laced her fingers with mine? Our hands pulled apart. Heat flared across my cheeks. What sort of fool cow eyes had I been making in front of everyone?
I was grateful to George for taking over the conversation. At that moment, I found myself utterly without words. Viola sat perfectly composed again, no sneezing, no wild eyebrows. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d missed an important message.