Jacob's Way (30 page)

“Why, I couldn't let you do that, Marianne.” She laughed suddenly. “It's hard for me to call you that. I always call older women
Mrs.”

“I like it. I have only one daughter that I don't see often, so it's very nice to have a young woman treat me like a mother.”

Reisa was startled at the words. She stared at Marianne Driver and finally shook her head. “I couldn't let you put your money into it. We may lose it.”

“Don't be foolish. You're not going to lose money. You're going to be very successful.” She grew sober then and reached over to place her hand over Reisa's. “I'm doing this for you and your grandfather—but, of course, I'm doing it for Ben as well. He needs so much to have something go right. He was such a fine, happy, young man before the war. And even during the war he didn't lose the joy of living—until somewhere along the end. I think he became a silent man, and there was a sadness in him. Maybe it was losing the war. Maybe it was all of the death and suffering that he saw. Whatever it was, I want to see him become what he once was, and I think he can. So you have to take the money.”

Reisa was touched by Marianne Driver's words, and it gave her a new insight into Ben. “All right. If you like, we can pay you back in weekly payments.”

“Don't worry about that. Pay it back as you can. Come. You'll have to go to my home.”

They left the restaurant, and as they got into Marianne's carriage, she said, “The only thing I've ever done that I haven't told John about is that I've kept money out for a long time from housekeeping expenses, and when he gave me little gifts of money. I've got nearly a thousand dollars now.”

“That's a lot of money, Marianne!”

“I always had one thing in mind—to use it to help Ben. And now,” she said, turning her full smile on Reisa, “I'm going to get to do it.”

Aaron Coats looked surprised and then harried. Reisa Dimitri had come into his office, and he assumed she had come to beg him to lend her the money. He rose. “Miss Dimitri.”

“I have some money to put in your bank to start an account.” Reisa held up a leather purse that looked very heavy. She poured it out on Coats's desk and said, “Tell me how I can spend it on merchandise.”

Coats quickly counted the money and said, “Why, you have nine hundred dollars here!”

“Yes, and now I need to buy rings and other things.”

“Well, I'm so happy! You came by this money very quickly,” Coats said. He raised one eyebrow, hoping she would tell the source of her good fortune.

Reisa merely smiled. “Yes. God provided it. Now, can you show me how to handle this?”

Coats liked the young woman more than ever. “I can indeed! Several of the wholesalers are customers of mine and good friends. We'll put this money away and I'll get you a checkbook. Then we'll go visit my friends, and I'll ask them to make you the very best prices possible.”

“That's so good of you, Mr. Coats.”

“Indeed, no. It's my pleasure.”

The rest of the day went very quickly for Reisa. Mr. Coats took her to several wholesalers, including those who sold gold rings. He stayed with her as she made her orders, all of the time urging the merchants to do better with their prices. One of them finally said, “Coats, will you please get out of here. I'm going to lose money on this sale if you don't leave me alone!”

Coats merely laughed.

In the carriage on the way to the wholesalers, Coats taught Reisa how to write checks and keep a balance. She spent nearly six hundred dollars of the money, and he advised her to keep a balance. But she had ten gold rings and plenty of other supplies to stuff the wagon nearly full.

When she arrived home, her eyes blazing with excitement, the men gathered around her, and she told them what she had done.

Ben said, “I never knew a banker to lend money without security. How'd you do it?”

Reisa longed to tell him that it was his mother's money, but Marianne had sworn her to secrecy. So she merely said, “Women have secrets, Ben.” Even as she said this, she determined that very soon she would find some way to persuade Marianne to let her tell the secret.

“We'll pick up all of the supplies tomorrow, and we'll leave early in the morning the following day,” she said.

Reisa slept little that night, but finally she drifted off, her last thought being a vision of the sweet face of Marianne Driver.

The first four days of travel had been easy, and the small company had sold considerable stock. They had fallen into a pattern, traveling throughout the day, stopping at houses, or occasionally at a small village, setting up shop on the main street. Neither Ben nor Dov ever tried to sell anything, but they helped Reisa unpack and show her wares and then repack the wagon. In the evening they camped, whenever possible, by a stream. Ben picked their stops, for he knew all of this country like the back of his hand.

On the evening of the fourth day, they set up camp in a pleasant meadow beside a small stream. Darkness had already come, and Dov was sitting on a box in front of the campfire roasting quail. Ben had gone hunting while Reisa set up shop in a small village. He had killed a dozen quail, and he and Dov had cleaned them. They were spitted, and Dov was watching carefully as the meat turned a golden brown.

Reisa came out of the wagon where she had been brushing her hair, drawn by the smell of cooked meat. She had, as usual, put on her kerchief, and now she came to stand beside Dov, patting his shoulder. “That smells good, Dov.”

“All done,” he said. He reached over and stirred the beans that were bubbling in a pot. Reisa took out three plates and forks and spoons. There was a coffee pot balanced on the grill that they had brought along. Dov took two quail off the spit, put them on Reisa's plate, then added beans. “I hope it good,” he said. “I never cooked birds except ducks.”

Reisa sat down cross-legged beside Ben. The fire was a dot of red and yellow brilliance, throwing its welcome heat outward. Reisa touched the quail. “Ow, it's hot!”

“Nothin' better than fresh quail,” Driver said. He began to eat, hot as it was, and he showed Reisa how to break the legs off. Tiny though they were, they were delicious. “About all there is to these birds is the breast,” Ben said. “But it's mighty good.”

Reisa found it delicious. Being out in the open air all day and then sitting around the campfire eating gave her an appetite. “I'm going to be fat if I keep on eating like this,” she said between bites.

“You will never be fat.”

“How do you know that?”

“It's a gift I have.” Driver smiled at her, his teeth bright. His single eye gleamed by the light of the fire, and he said, “I can always look at a woman and tell what she'll be like at sixty.”

“You can't either!”

“Yes, I can.”

Reisa laughed. “All right. What will I be like?”

“Just like you are now, with silver hair instead of black.”

Reisa considered this, then said, “No. I'll have wrinkles. Everybody gets wrinkles when they get older.”

“Guess you're right.”

They ate their meal leisurely, but it was still too early to go to bed. Dov, however, always loved to go to bed after eating at night. He crawled under the wagon with his blankets and settled in.

Ben remained behind, sitting cross-legged staring into the fire. Once he reached out and took a twig and set the end of it ablaze. He watched it until it burned down, then tossed it back into the fire.

Reisa was sitting next to him. She had a cup of coffee and sipped it from time to time. Finally she asked, “What was it like during the war? You rarely talk about it.”

“No. I guess I don't. It was all right at first,” he said quietly. “Everywhere we went we were heroes. Young women met us and kissed us and gave us donuts, and there were bands playing battle songs. We thought it was a good world for young men then.”

Reisa listened as he spoke, wondering what he was like during those times. His mother had said he was full of joy, but she could not see this in him now.

For a while Ben talked about the war, and then finally he said quietly, “I guess I lost my taste for the war when my best friend got killed. The battle was over, and we had come through it again. We were just standing there trying to catch our breath after it all. A shot rang out, and Paul fell down dead—victim of a sniper. That took everything out of me. I went on through Appomattox, but I didn't care much about anything. My lieutenant said I was tryin' to get myself killed exposing myself. Maybe I was.”

“I'm so sorry about your friend.”

“I lost a lot of good friends.”

“What about your family?” Reisa asked.

“I had one brother Matthew, but he was killed in the war. He was the one who should have lived. He was the good one, and I was the black sheep, always into some kind of mischief, but nothing really bad until after the war.”

“You have no other brothers or sisters?”

“Yes, I have one sister named Prudence. She married a real fine man named Martin Rogers. They have three children now.”

“Where do they live?”

“In Washington. He's a doctor—and a fine one, too. Prudence and I were really close, and I liked her husband a great deal.”

“You haven't seen her in a long time?”

“No, not in a long time.”

“I like your mother very much. I had tea with her the last time I was in town.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. She's such a good woman and a fine-looking woman, too.”

Ben suddenly smiled. “All Drivers are good-looking people.” Then the smile left. “I don't guess you saw my father?”

“No, I didn't.” Reisa hesitated. “It's a shame you two don't get along.”

“I don't blame him. He's always been proud of the Driver name, and I dragged it down in the dirt.”

Quickly Reisa knew she had to change the subject. She watched as Ben stood up and stretched. She stood up with him, and for a moment the two stood there. He turned to face her and said, “I'm glad you like my mother. You'd like Prudence, too.”

Reisa felt a surge of pity go through her for this tall man. He had endured a great deal of hardship, and yet she knew that deep down in his spirit there was goodness. She put out her hand almost involuntarily and laid it on his arm. She felt the strength and thought for a moment how thin he had been when she had found him in the road.

He turned suddenly to face her, and as he did she saw something in his expression that startled her. She expected him to kiss her, but he did not. They stood there silently, and then Reisa did something that she had never done, and she did not know why she did it. She untied the knot of her scarf, and then pulled the pins out of her hair. It fell over her back, and she said, “I wish I could wear my hair like this all the time. You always wanted to see it. Well, there it is.”

The woods were silent around them except for the sound of some hunting owl that made a sudden soft cry that broke the silence. Overhead the stars looked down, but she saw that he was not looking at the stars but at her. He reached out, ran his hand over the glossy blackness of her hair. It fell almost to her waist, and somehow she felt that she had opened herself to him more, perhaps, than was proper. It gave her an odd feeling to stand there with her hair down and to look up at him.