The Widower's Wife (15 page)

When Jillian woke, she was sure it was past midnight. Jenny still lay sleeping soundly. She gently rose from the bed, tucked Jenny’s blanket around her, and for the first time kissed her forehead softly, whispering “I love you, Jenny.” She crossed the room and closed the door quietly.

Jillian paused outside of Dalton’s room. She assumed he was inside, even if she hadn’t heard him come in. She hoped he was sleeping as soundly as Jenny. He worked too hard not to get a good night’s sleep. She quietly opened the door to her own room, went in, and silently closed it behind her. Quickly she undressed, climbed into bed, and fell immediately asleep.

Things were better with Jenny after that night. Jenny even silently helped a little around the house and with the cooking. A few days later, when Jillian was weeding in the flower garden, Jenny came up, knelt down in the dirt, and started working right beside her. She didn’t say anything, just worked. She seemed to know what she was doing too. Then, just as quietly as she had come, she got up and left. Jillian said a special prayer of thanks that day.

The more progress she made with Jenny, however, the more distant she and Dalton seemed to become. She had barely seen him in almost two weeks, and the children were missing him terribly.

Jillian saw a flash of lightning, just over the north fields, and it jolted her back from her thoughts. A few moments later, she heard the clap of thunder that followed. The storm was moving faster than she thought it would. She would need to hurry to get her chores done.

About fifteen minutes later, Jenny came stumbling into the house out of breath. School must have let out early because of the impending rain.

“Ma, come quick!” Jillian was startled. Jenny had just called her “Ma” for the first time. She would have liked to ponder on that and what it meant for their relationship, but the next words out of Jenny’s mouth caused an immediate fear to well up inside, stifling any good thoughts.

“Ma, the fields are on fire!” Jenny cried desperately.

Jillian ran to the door to look out. She could see a billow of black smoke rising up in the distance behind the barn, but her view of the north fields was blocked. Immediately, a vision of Dalton possibly caught in the flames crossed her mind.

“Jenny,” she said, reaching for the coat that hung by the door and putting it on. “Watch your sister and brother for me. I’ve got to go help your father.”

Jenny ran into her arms and began to cry. Jillian wished she could stay and enjoy holding her, but instead she broke the embrace, knelt down, put her hands on Jenny’s shoulders, and looked into her eyes. “Jenny, everything is going to be okay, but listen carefully to me. You are in charge. You need to stay in the house. The fire is not close. You, Lisa, and Brenn will be safe. I will come back and check on you or send someone as soon as I can.”

Jenny nodded her understanding. Jillian stood and walked over to where Lisa and Brenn had been playing minutes before. They now sat watching intently what was going on between her and Jenny. They didn’t quite understand it, but they could tell something unusual was happening. Jillian quickly hugged them both and said, “Lisa, I want you to mind your sister and help her watch Brenn, okay?” Lisa nodded and put her arm around Brenn protectively, sensing her great responsibility. Jillian stood and hurried out the door.

As she headed across the yard, Uncle Ned and Aunt Betty came barreling up the road in the buckboard. They jumped down and quickly retrieved a number of different sized buckets that had been haphazardly thrown into the back.

“Quick, Jillian,” Aunt Betty hollered. “Find any containers that will hold water, as many as you can carry. We can’t take the wagon any closer because fire will spook the horses.” Jillian immediately obeyed her, grabbing anything she could find.

As she hurried out to the fields, Jillian saw two other wagons drive up carrying their neighbors—the Collins, the Flannigans, and some others she didn’t know. Quickly, she said a prayer of thanks for the additional help and asked for the rain to begin. So far, not a drop had fallen.

Jillian’s breath caught in her throat when they reached the blazing fields. It appeared that close to half the crop was already burning. Her heart ached, and she searched anxiously until she finally caught sight of Dalton working feverishly, beating at the flames with a wool blanket.

Almost immediately, those present formed a line from the well to the fire, and everyone began working, bringing water to the flames to help put out the fire. Jillian kept looking up at the sky, praying that the rain would begin, even as the sky darkened and the winds picked up. Nobody spoke a word to anyone else. They just continued to work and to pray.

Jillian looked over at Dalton. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the fire, but she could see the pained look, even in the profile of his face. Her heart ached for the loss of all his hard work. It was a blessing when the skies finally opened up and poured their mercies out onto the fields, dousing the flames.

Finally, when only small tendrils of smoke billowed up here and there, each neighbor came forward, one by one, and offered their sympathies to Dalton and then to Jillian, before slowly heading back to their own homes. Uncle Ned and Aunt Betty were the last to leave. Aunt Betty stepped in front of Dalton and gave him a heartfelt hug. He just stood, despondent, with his arms hanging at his side. She then walked over to Jillian and gathered her tenderly into her arms.

“I’ll stop in at the house and check on the children before we head back home. Is there anything else we can do for you?” Jillian just shook her head. She didn’t trust herself to speak—her emotions were too raw. Uncle Ned gave her a tight hug next.

“Everything will be all right,” he said. “We farmers are strong. When life knocks us down, we just pick ourselves up and get goin’ again. You both will get through this, and we’ll be here to help.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, and he and Aunt Betty headed back to the house.

Jillian turned back to look at Dalton. His back was to her, and he stood motionless as the rain mercilessly poured down on them. She wiped the rain from her eyes that was now mixed with the salt of her tears. She walked up behind Dalton and placed her hand on his shoulder.

It was as if she had just disturbed a castle made of cards. His knees buckled beneath him, and he sank to the ground. Jillian knelt down beside him and put her arms around his shoulders. Immediately, his arms came around her and he laid his head against her chest. She felt his body shudder as if the last remnants of the imaginary castle suddenly fell. She could feel his defeat in the way his body lay drained against her own. Her tears fell freely, lost in the rain that continued to fall as she tried to comfort him.

Jillian didn’t know how long they sat that way. The rain had let up to a hard drizzle. Eventually, Dalton sat back up and they both stared at the blackness in front of them. Jillian had been struggling to control her body and keep it from shivering, but finally she couldn’t hold it back any longer and her body began to shake violently. Dalton stood up then, lifting her up with him, and looked into her eyes.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for staying out here with me for a while.” Jillian said nothing. She reached up and brushed away a wet strand of hair that had fallen into his face, until her hand began shaking again. He cradled it in his own and tried to give it some warmth. “We need to get you back to the house.” Without letting go of her hand, he turned and started walking. “Besides, the children are probably worried.”

“Yes, I told Jenny I’d try to hurry. I hope we haven’t frightened her.” The thought made her walk a little faster. She remembered the miracle that had happened. Jenny had not only called her “Ma,” but had hugged her as well! In spite of all this devastation, Jillian found something to be happy about. She recalled Uncle Ned’s words.
We farmers are strong. When life knocks us down, we just pick ourselves back up and get going
. Was he right? Would Dalton be able to pick himself back up and get them through this? They would need to be strong—she needed to be strong, both for Dalton and for the children.

Jillian suddenly remembered the money her mother had given her before she left. It was tucked safely away in her trunk. Her mother had said it would come in handy in good times and troubled ones. The fire would definitely bring troubled times, but would the money be enough to help her family through them? Yes, she knew it would. Everything was going to be all right. “Thank you, Mother,” Jillian whispered to herself as she and Dalton returned to the house and the waiting children.

It was Saturday—just a few days after the fire—and Dalton came home for lunch at the house for the first time in two weeks. He sat watching as Jillian patiently showed Jenny just how to knead bread dough. Jenny laughed out loud as a cloud of flour burst from the table and into her face as she plopped the dough back down.

Jenny, laughing?
he thought. That was a sound he hadn’t heard in over a year. Something wonderful had happened, and he sensed which night it had begun.

Dalton came in one evening after making sure the chicken coop was secured. Some critter had been getting at the chickens. It hadn’t taken one yet, but already two had broken their necks scurrying around in the dark, trying to get away from whatever was after them. He didn’t know what it was, and he would be on edge until he eliminated the threat. The idea of some unknown animal running around attacking things didn’t sit too well with him, especially knowing his children often played in the area.

When he came back inside, the house was quiet. It appeared that everyone had gone to bed, even Jillian. He had been avoiding her lately. He didn’t know what else to do. After Jenny had gotten so upset at the picnic, he was afraid his actions would ruin any progress Jillian had made with her. In order to avoid any awkwardness, he spent most of his time in the fields, repairing fences, or working out in the barn. He’d leave early in the morning, taking his lunch with him, and return home late at night, eating what Jillian had set aside for him.

It had been a difficult time for him. He missed playing with the children at night and spending time with them in the mornings. He had hardly seen them at all the last two weeks. He checked in on them every night before he went to bed, but that didn’t fill the void.

He finished his supper and headed to his room. He wasn’t getting enough sleep by rising earlier and getting to bed later than everyone else. As he walked up the hall, he heard a soft melody drifting from Jenny’s room. He recognized the tune immediately—it was the one Laurellyn sang to Jenny and Lisa as she rocked them to sleep when they were small babies. The door was open a crack, so he peeked inside. Jillian lay on the bed next to Jenny, caressing her hair as she sang the melody. He stood mesmerized, watching the scene before him as he listened to the familiar tune.

Gracefully the dove spreads her wings

And upon the wind she glides.

Sweetly the meadowlark starts to sing

Her beauty she cannot hide.

Butterflies go dancing by

And bring color to the skies.

Wildflowers, a bloom in the meadows,

Are rainbows to our eyes.

And you, my child are the greatest of all,

For you live within my heart

And where’er we be, either near or far,

We will never be apart.

Dalton couldn’t bring himself to walk away but instead leaned against the wall outside the room and continued to listen as she sang the words over and over. Was it a coincidence that Jillian would know the same tender lullaby that Laurellyn used to sing?

Eventually, Jillian stopped singing. Dalton slipped off to his own room. As he lay down in his bed, he felt a peace settle over him. With the lullaby still playing in his head, he fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.

Jenny laughed again, and Dalton was startled from his memories. Lisa and Brenn had wandered over to where Jillian and Jenny were working, and Jillian gave each of the younger children a small piece of the dough. Lisa rolled hers around on the table, and Brenn shoved his piece into his mouth. Jenny laughed because more of it was sticking to his face than he was getting in his mouth. Dalton leaned back in his chair, sighing quietly, and contentedly watching his family for a while longer.

Things had worked as he’d hoped. By keeping his distance from Jillian and thereby not causing Jenny any more upsets, his family was healing. He watched Jillian for a moment. He couldn’t help but feel he’d made the right decision because of the change in Jenny. The laughter and happiness that filled the house was a blessing that helped temper the tragedy they had experienced.

They had lost over half of the crop to the fire. It was too late in the season to replant, so he busied himself tending the surviving corn, cleaning up the debris, and getting the fields ready for planting next year. He looked over at Jillian as she smiled down at Jenny. He recalled the surprise she had given him the morning after the fire.

Jillian sat down next to Dalton after breakfast, and, after taking his hand, she placed a large sum of money into it.

“Take this,” she said. “It will get us by until you bring in a crop next season, with money to spare.” At that moment, he looked at the money she had given him. His eyes got wide, so she continued quickly. “My mother gave it to me before I left. It is of no consequence to me in any other way than to help our family in this time of trouble.” He didn’t want to take it, but he knew she was right. He had to think of the children. So he asked her to put it away, but when the time came and they had need of it, they would discuss it further. Dalton hoped that if he could possibly cut back on some other things, they wouldn’t need but a small portion of Jillian’s money to tide them over.

“Ma . . . Ma . . . up!”

Dalton saw Jillian beam with pleasure as Brenn spoke the words for the first time. She went to his outstretched arms at once and lifted him from the chair. Dalton had to suppress his laughter at the expression on her face when his sticky fingers found their way into her hair. Not missing the slight chuckle that escaped him, Jillian looked over at Dalton and feigned an angry glare, but he wasn’t fooled. As he watched the mirth dancing in her eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder how, with so much tragedy, his family seemed so happy. His heart then whispered to him that it was the woman standing before him that made it so, and he had to agree. If only things were different.