“Me too.” For the first time she understood what it meant to feel butterflies in her stomach.
Thirteen
“I have loved more or less many times an ardent but transient affection that perhaps aroused something holier and nobler in my nature. But each has been somewhat different. ... The earth seems brighter and my life for some time has been happier. It is the sweet pleasure of a calm love which seems to be growing deeper.”
~Earl Douglass
FRIDAY, JUNE28, 1889
It had been the best week of his life. Funny how that happened so often this summer.
All because of one person.
Martha.
Working by her side made every day richer. The work at the dig was grueling but extremely satisfying. They were on track to finish ahead of schedule.
A little laugh together here, a glance there, a secret smile shared every hour or so. Every day she’d found a way to grab his hand and hold it in a private moment together.
Was this what love felt like? And even though his common sense told him that he was treading on thin ice, he couldn’t believe that God would bring them together like this then tear them apart.
Oh, they were a long way from stating their affection aloud. The dig had to be first and foremost. But Jacob was hopeful. He’d spent a good many hours praying about it.
Tomorrow was Saturday and they would have another long day at the dig site, but then Sunday, they’d planned to go to church together and have another picnic.
Having something like that to look forward to was enough to put a skip in his step, even at this late hour.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he whistled a lively hymn as he made his way the last few blocks to his apartment house.
Even though Martha had endured a lot, she’d gotten stronger this week. Lily Rose was still distant, but Martha was slowly breaking down the other woman’s walls. There was no word about how things were with her mother, but the story about her father’s alleged criminal activity had been printed and run. The same day, there had been a horrible accident on the train tracks in Denver and it had taken over people’s conversations and almost all of the newspapers the next few days.
The story would surely come back to light at some point, but perhaps people were getting tired of all the nonsense with the so-called Bone Wars.
When he reached his building, he couldn’t wait to get out of his dirt-encrusted clothes and clean up in the wash basin. His bed was calling to his aching body.
He climbed the stairs two at a time and walked down the hall to his room. A noise behind the door stopped him in his tracks. The door was ajar.
What was going on?
He pushed the door ever so slightly. “What are you doing?”
The figure jumped and turned toward him. Abe. One of the men he’d worked with at the other dig.
Jacob scanned the room. His belongings were strewn across the bed. “Abe, I’ll ask you again. What are you doing?”
The scrawny man blinked several times. “I need a place to stay.” He glanced down at the bed. “And some clothes to wear.”
“Why? What happened?” Not that Jacob didn’t want to be compassionate, but something had the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
“I need to get home to my ma. She’s sick.”
“So you thought it would be okay to come into my room without permission and rifle through my clothes?” They weren’t even close to the same size. Jacob was a good five inches taller than the other man. And a good bit broader too.
The man ducked his chin. “I’m sorry. But you always said that if I needed anything, you would be there for me.”
A bit of the anger left him. Hehadsaid that. To many of the other men too. He’d tried to befriend them, be the light of Jesus to them. He’d told them he would be there for them. It was important to follow through. “I assume it’s just for one night?”
“What? Oh yeah, one night.” Abe swallowed. “I’m leaving tomorrow for home.”
