Forevermore by Cathy Marie Hake Page B

for him. Small and shaking, her hand barely connected with his before she desperately curled her fingers around his.
    Jakob scooped her up and clutched her to his chest. “See? I am here.”
    “I was all alone.”
    He wasn’t sure whether she meant she’d been alone in the room or was referring to the time last year when she’d fallen into the wellhole. The memory still haunted them both. “You aren’t alone. I’m here, and Aunt Annie is here.”
    “And Miss Hope?”
    “Yes. And Jesus.” She clung to him, as if she wanted to burrow into his shirt and stay buttoned against him forever. Jakob bent his head, kissed her temple, and murmured soft reassurances to her. The tension in her quivering muscles began to ease.
    “How is she, Jakob?” Annie called up to him.
    “It’s been hot as can be. I bet lil’ Emmy-Lou would like a nice, cool sip of water.” Hope stood at the foot of the stairs. Jakob noticed how she’d wound her arm around his sister, as if to share Annie’s concerns. “Would you like me to bring up a dipper, or do all y’all wanna come down here?”
    “Daddy,” Emmy-Lou whispered against his neck, “I gotta go.”
    Jakob carried her downstairs. Annie took her to the study where they now kept a chamber pot. When they came back out, Hope knelt down and swiped a cool dishrag over Emmy-Lou’s face and hands. “Didja listen to the music all them crickets are a-makin’? Sounds to me like the Lord Jesus gave ’em all teeny-tiny, itty-bitty fiddles, and all of ’em are playing songs to tell Him how they love Him.”
    Emmy-Lou cocked her head to the side and listened. She whispered, “There’s lots of them!”
    “Yup. I reckon there’s a star in the sky for every last one of them crickets. Betcha they start a-twinkling when the music gets a-goin’ so they can shine out their glory just like they did the night Baby Jesus got borned. Don’t you think so, Annie?”
    “Ja. Bright and pretty.”
    He didn’t know what the women discussed when he wasn’t around, but Jakob knew Hope understood his daughter was afraid of the dark. Whether or not she knew why . . . that didn’t matter at the moment. Her matter-of-fact approach and comforting thoughts erased some of the fear in Emmy-Lou’s wide eyes.
    Hope set aside the dishcloth and pressed a little tin cup into Emmy-Lou’s hands. Emmy-Lou drank the water. “Thank you.” She yawned.
    Hope took back the cup. “Did you say your night-night prayer tonight?”
    Emmy-Lou whispered, “Yes.”
    “No better way to end the day than to put yourself in God’s hands.” Hope gave her a hug. “You can snuggle up and listen to the crickets sing ’til you fall asleep.”
    “Aunt Annie is tired, too. She’ll stay with you upstairs. Won’t you, Annie?” Jakob looked at his sister.
    “I am tired.”
    Annie and Emmy-Lou went upstairs. Jakob emptied the chamber pot and returned it to the corner of his office. When he came back out, he stopped cold and stared at the housekeeper. Anger pulsed through him. “What are you doing?”

Eight
    W hen you went to go fetch your daughter, your Bible slipped from the edge of the table. Didn’t seem right, the Holy Bible layin’ on the floor. That picture fell out, too. Though the glass from the frame busted all over creation, I tacked the wood back, good as new.” Hope wandered to the far side of the dining table and hung the frame with the picture back inside it. “Come Wednesday, when you or Phineas take the butter, eggs, and milk to town, you can replace the glass.”
    Relief sprouted in him—a small seed that grew and flowered the longer he gazed at the picture. It wasn’t ruined, after all. Throughout dinner, the empty spot on the wall where the picture had hung tore at him. Seeing Naomi there again felt right. Comforting.
    “Your wife—you made her a powerful happy woman. That smile on her face glows with contentment. Makes me wanna grin myself.”
    For almost a year and a half, no one mentioned