Forevermore by Cathy Marie Hake Page A

she jumped from one chore to another. It made no sense to him. “What made you think of her hat?”
    “We’re talkin’ bout lids. Caps, hats, bonnets—”
    No. Oh no. It was one thing for a woman to parade around with a decorated mule, but a man had his dignity. “Your mule won’t be wearing that hat while I’m working her.”
    “You’ll be wearin’ your straw hat.”
    Incredulous, Jakob stared at Hope. “That’s different.”
    Hope nodded. “Yep.”
    Relief flooded him. He’d made her see reason.
    “Your ears don’t stick outta the top.”
    A while later, Jakob sat at the dining table once again, only this time he’d read his Bible to Annie and Hope. He closed his Bible, taking care that the photograph stayed securely within the pages. “It is getting late.”
    As if to punctuate his assertion, the clock struck ten. Annie set aside the tiny gown she’d been sewing.
    “Thankee for reading to us.” Hope wiped the top of a jar. “Can’t you just ’magine how Balaam felt when that ass of his started talkin’? If ’n God ever started tellin’ me things through Hattie, I’d be scairt outta my skin. Smart as she is, she still don’t have nothin’ to say to me.”
    If she could talk, she’d tell you to stop sticking that hat on her . Jakob’s chair scraped the floor as he stood. “God had a purpose.”
    “Yup. Guess Balaam’s partly to blame that God ended up making the donkey talk. Imagine that Balaam feller beatin’ on that poor critter. Once the man saw the angel for himself, he understood, though. Reckon ’tis an important story, seein’ as it’s in the Bible, but it sorta settles poorly on me. Never could abide violence, though—not even in a story.”
    Jakob asserted, “It was a long time ago.”
    Annie took a lantern from the table and started toward the door. The room dimmed. “Ready, Hope?”
    “You go on ahead, Annie. I got me a second breath of fresh air.”
    “Almost every night, you get a second wind.” Annie sounded almost guilty.
    “Hearing Mr. Stauffer read from the Good Book—well, it fills my heart so full, I gotta stay up and savor the words. Either that, or the story niggles at me, so I gotta figure out why it’s weighin’ on my mind. No use in me lying in bed, starin’ at the ceiling.”
    “Mama was like that.” Annie’s voice held the softness of a treasured memory.
    “If Mama were here, she’d shoo you off to bed.” Jakob took the kerosene lamp from his sister. Her shadow on the wall outlined her maternal condition. “You don’t need to go outside.”
    She blushed.
    “Mercy sakes, no.” Hope waggled her finger at Annie. “If Balaam’s donkey were here, he’d tell you to exercise your horse sense. Yep, he would. No one rides a horse at night when he’s got a roof over his head.”
    A smile flickered across Annie’s face. “The man has the roof, or the horse?”
    Jakob looked at his sister and marveled. He didn’t know how Hope did it, but she had managed to make Annie comfortable— comfortable enough to indulge in that teasing question. He’d noticed a change in his sister—she’d warmed up to the housekeeper, and Hope now called Annie by her first name. Those things gave Jakob a glimmer of hope for his sister. With time and loving care, perhaps she could recover.
    Laughter bubbled out of Hope. “This here farm’s so fine, man and beasts all have roofs over their heads.” Her brow knit. “That made it sound like y’all have a bunch of heads apiece. Well, don’t make no never mind. Even with one head, you’re smart enough not to risk fallin’ and hurtin’ yourself out there in the dark.”
    “Daddy?” Emmy-Lou whimpered from upstairs.
    “Ja.” Jakob hastily set the lamp on the table and bolted up the stairs two at a time. “Ja, I’m right here.”
    Emmy-Lou stood in the door to her room, afraid to step away from the shaft of moonlight and into the dark of the hallway. One hand curled around the doorframe, and she reached out