Page 4 of Poppy’s Prayers (Clover Creek Community #8)
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.
She looked at him then, really looked, seeing past the mask to the grieving man inside him. “Thank you for your honesty, Jacob,” she managed. “At least now I know where we stand.”
With that, Poppy turned away from him, her steps measured and deliberate as she retreated to the sanctuary of the kitchen, not caring where he was or what he was doing. He didn’t love her. What else did she need to know?
Poppy slipped through the door, the latch clicking softly behind her. It was windy with a chill that seeped through her shawl, every gust of wind a welcome companion. If she focused on the cold, she wouldn’t focus on what an idiot she’d been to marry Jacob. She had envisioned love, companionship, children playing in the yard—but these were fantasies.
With each step along the dirt path that wound its way through Clover Creek, Poppy’s thoughts wandered to the marriage she wanted. One filled with love and tender moments. Not just with duty and growing a family. How could she have been so stupid?
She stopped by the brook that meandered past their homestead, its waters gurgling over rocks and roots, indifferent to human sorrow. She’d once thought they would have picnics by the stream while their children played. But her illusions were gone as sure as her heart was broken.
“Love,” she murmured to the uncaring stream, “where art thou?”
The whisper of her voice seemed to mock her. Now, the future loomed before her, bleak and barren.
Yet even as despair clutched at her skirts, a defiant spark kindled within her. Was it not better to know the truth? To face the world with eyes wide open, no matter how hard it was?
“Perhaps,” Poppy conceded, “but oh, to be cherished.”
Of course, what she wanted mattered little. Jacob didn’t love her, and she couldn’t force him to try.
“Jacob!” There was no response.
“Jacob,” she whispered to herself this time.
With each passing day, Jacob seemed to delve deeper into his work, the farm becoming both his sanctuary and prison. He would return late after Poppy had taken her solitary supper.
And so, the days stretched into weeks, marked by the relentless cycle of dawn to dusk. Poppy busied herself with the small tasks that made up life on the frontier but found little solace in them. The farm, once a shared dream, now felt like a barren landscape mirroring her empty heart.
Finally, she’d had enough of his nonsense. If he didn’t come when she called him for supper, then he didn’t need to eat. She wasn’t going to keep his food warm for him or go out to try to find him anymore. He would treat her with the respect his wife deserved—whether he loved her or not—or he could go hungry.
“Poppy?” The sound of her name startled her, and she turned to see Jacob standing at the edge of the field, his expression unreadable.
“Supper’s ready,” she said.
“Thank you,” he replied and turned back toward the barn without another glance.
Without even looking at him again, she dumped his supper into the yard and ate her supper. She wasn’t going to play his game any longer.
*****
Poppy walked into town and bought some wheat the following day, not letting Jacob know because she was certain he didn’t care. When she reached the homestead, she paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. A part of her wished to find Jacob inside, ready to greet her with an embrace. But there was no one home. No one but Poppy.
Poppy walked into the kitchen to make supper. She knew she would probably throw Jacob’s half out, but she still cooked for him. It didn’t seem to matter how he felt about her. She still loved him.
“Is there any hope for us?” she whispered to the empty room.
Jacob’s chair across from hers remained unoccupied, the indentation on its cushion slowly fading.
Poppy pressed her hand against the cool glass of the window, watching for a sign of Jacob returning from the fields or the barn.
*****
Poppy heard the familiar creak of the homestead’s gate. She glanced up from her lonely vigil at the window to see Sarah, her sister, making her way up the path, a basket of fresh bread and preserves swinging in her hand.
“Sarah,” Poppy greeted. The comfort of family was a balm even on the raw edges of her heartache.
“Poppy,” Sarah said with a concerned furrow between her brows, stepping into the dimming kitchen. “I brought some apricot preserves; I remember they’re your favorite.”
“Thank you,” Poppy murmured. She knew she was losing weight that she couldn’t afford to lose while she carried the baby, but she didn’t know how to stop it. The preserves reminded her of brighter days, of laughter shared over breakfast that now seemed an age away.
“Poppy?” Sarah’s gentle hand touched her arm, urging her to sit beside her at the wooden table. “What weighs on you? You know you can tell me anything.”
The floodgates opened, and words poured out of Poppy. “It’s Jacob…He’s never here, and when he is, it’s like he’s miles away. I feel so alone, Sarah. I feel abandoned.”
Sarah listened without interruption, her presence a steady rock amidst the whirlpool of Poppy’s emotions. When the last sob had left her sister’s lips, she spoke softly, “Poppy, love isn’t always lightning and thunder. Sometimes it’s the quiet growth after a long winter. It blooms with time and patience.”
Poppy nodded. “When we first found out that I was expecting, everything changed for a little while, but now he’s back to not remembering I’m here.”
As the sisters’ conversation waned, a gentle knock at the door interrupted their communion. Hannah Scott stood there, her own face etched with lines of empathy and understanding.
“May I come in?” she asked. Within moments, the pastor’s wife was seated at the table, her hands enveloping Poppy’s.
“Poppy, I’ve seen the strain between you and Jacob,” Hannah began, her eyes reflecting the setting sun’s fading light. “Jed and I, we’ve weathered our own storms. There were days I thought the love we had was lost in the wilderness of our struggles.”
“How did you find your way back?” Poppy asked, her voice barely above a whisper, seeking the secret map Hannah had used to navigate her marital trials.
“It takes time,” Hannah replied, “and faith—not just in each other, but in the journey you’ve undertaken together. Love is a commitment that endures beyond affection. It’s a choice to walk side by side.”
*****
Poppy wandered to the edge of the wheat field. The Clover Creek schoolhouse, where she had taught, stood in the distance, its windows reflecting the late afternoon sun—a beacon of routine and escape from her private turmoil.
As she stood there, she made a decision that would change the course of her life no matter how it went. She would move back in with Sarah and see how long it took Jacob to realize she was gone.
The wind picked up, sending a chill through her bones and teasing her flaming red hair into wild disarray. She wrapped her arms around herself, not just for warmth, but in an attempt to hold together the fragments of her resolve. Could she leave? Did she have the courage to leave a man who didn’t love her and never had? Or would she crumble as soon as someone from town looked at her?
“Perhaps…” Poppy murmured. Her heart ached at the thought of abandoning the promise she had made before God and their small community. Leaving Jacob would mean turning her back on the vows she had taken so seriously, yet his absence was like a drought upon her soul, draining her of joy.
As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the land, Poppy’s inner tempest quieted. A moment of clarity emerged, as clear and sharp as the horizon line that severed earth from heaven. She remembered their shared laughter, the way he had looked at her when they first met, full of a different kind of longing.
As hard as it was to leave him, she knew she had to do it. She needed to leave for herself. Because being unloved and unwanted wasn’t something she enjoyed.
With a newfound determination, Poppy turned back toward the house they shared. She would pack her things and go spend some time with her sister and her family. Sarah had let her know she was always welcome, and she was ready to find out if her sister meant it or if she was just saying it to be kind.