Chapter Four
Jacob was leaning on the fence when he heard the crunch of gravel underfoot. He turned to see Poppy, her face aglow with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Her shadow stretched long across the ground, reaching for him like an omen.
“Jacob,” she called, her voice quivering slightly with the weight of her news.
He straightened up and met her halfway, noting the flush in her cheeks that wasn’t there from just the walk home. “What is it, Poppy?” he asked, his heart starting to beat a little faster. Maybe it was the way she held herself, or the almost imperceptible tremor in her smile, but something significant hovered between them.
“I’ve just come back from Dr. Bentley’s office,” she said, her hands intertwining nervously before her. “And…we’re going to have a baby.”
For a moment, everything stopped—the wind, the rustling leaves, the distant mooing of cattle. Jacob felt a surge of emotion he hadn’t experienced since before the war had taken his brother. It was as if Poppy’s words had unlocked something deep within him.
“Truly?” His voice was barely a whisper, laden with a hope he’d dared not entertain.
“Truly,” she confirmed, her voice lifting in joy.
With a sudden burst of energy, he closed the remaining distance and swept Poppy into his arms, spinning her around as laughter bubbled from them both. He held her tight, his dark eyes shining with unshed tears of happiness, and whispered promises into her hair. “If it’s a boy, I want to name him Lucas. After my brother.”
Poppy nodded. “Lucas is a fine name. I like it.”
The following week, Jacob threw himself into his work with renewed vigor, fixing fences with a whistle on his lips and waking before dawn to tend to the milking. Poppy watched him with a warmth in her chest, her hand often resting on her still-flat belly, dreaming of the family they were about to become.
But as quickly as this newfound joy had come, it was gone. The shadows in Jacob’s eyes returned, deeper and more haunted than before. He started to retreat again into the silence that had so often enveloped him. It settled over the farm like a thick fog.
Poppy noticed the change one evening when Jacob came in from the barn later than usual, his supper cold and untouched on the table. She watched him from the doorway, the lines of his face etched with a sorrow that seemed to have no end.
“Jacob?” she ventured softly, the concern clear in her voice.
He looked up, his gaze distant, as if he were seeing through her to a place she couldn’t follow. “I’m tired, Poppy,” he said, his voice hollow. “Just tired.”
Poppy felt a chill run down her spine. The word ‘tired’ hung in the air, but she knew it wasn’t a truthful comment. No, it was more than being tired. And once again, she was no part of it.
*****
Poppy’s fingers trembled as she folded the last of the schoolchildren’s drawings, her heart heavy. Her mind was not on the sketches of wildflowers and prairie dogs but on Jacob, his recent joy at her pregnancy now a fleeting memory. She brushed a stray lock of fiery hair from her face and made a decision.
As Poppy entered their homestead, the creaking of the wooden floor under her boots echoed in the sparse room, mirroring the tension that hung in the air. Jacob sat by the hearth staring into the flames as if they held answers to questions she hadn’t yet asked.
“Jacob,” Poppy began, her voice steady despite the quiver of uncertainty within her, “we need to talk.”
He glanced up, dark eyes meeting hers for just a moment before he looked away. “Everything’s fine, Poppy,” he murmured.
“Fine?” she pressed, stepping closer, her skirts whispering against the wooden planks. “You’ve been as distant as the horizon since…since we learned of the baby.” She paused, watching his jaw tighten. “Is there something on your mind? Something you’re not telling me?”
Jacob stood abruptly, his chair scraping back with a jarring sound. “I’ve work to do,” he said.
“Work can wait!” Poppy’s voice rose, filled with an anger she could no longer contain. She reached out, grasping his arm. “Jacob, look at me!”
He turned to her then. “Poppy, please,” he said softly.
“Please, what? Please pretend that everything is as it should be?” She searched his face. “Jacob,” she insisted, her resolve hardening, “if there is anything between us, let it be honesty. I beg of you.”
Finally, Jacob exhaled, a slow surrender escaping his lips. “I married you so I could carry on my family name. I had no one in the world, and now, I have a child coming,” he confessed. “Love had nothing to do with it.”
Poppy felt the room tilt, the foundation of their life together cracking beneath her feet. She released his arm, stepping back as if distance could shield her from him.
“I see,” she said softly. Keeping her voice low took every bit of effort that she had inside her. She wanted to take her skillet and clobber him over the head with it. Or take her broom and shove it all the way up his nose until it came poking out of the top of his head.
“Poppy, I...” Jacob began.
