Page 6 of Poppy’s Prayers (Clover Creek Community #8)

Poppy, with her fiery mane of hair secured under a practical bonnet, approached the barn where Jacob was already at work.

“Morning, Jacob,” she greeted, tugging her shawl closer around her shoulders against the nip of dawn.

“Poppy,” he acknowledged without looking up, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he continued to shovel hay into the stalls.

“Let me help you with that,” she offered, rolling up the sleeves of her dress.

Jacob paused, leaning on his pitchfork, watching her with an unreadable expression. “You don’t have to do this,” he said.

“I know,” Poppy replied, her movements deliberate as she picked up a spare pitchfork. “But I want to.”

Poppy stole glances at Jacob, noting the set of his jaw, the occasional furrow of his brow when his thoughts turned inward.

“Must’ve been hard...” Poppy said, breaking the quiet as they moved to the next stall. “Leaving everything behind after the war, starting over.”

Jacob’s movements slowed, his shoulders tensing beneath the fabric of his worn shirt. “It was necessary,” he said after a moment, his voice hushed as if the words were reluctant travelers from his lips.

“Is that why you chose dairy farming?” she asked gently.

A small sigh escaped him, mingling with the earthy scent of the barn. “Wanted something…peaceful,” he admitted, his pitchfork piercing the hay with less force than before. “Something that reminded me less of cannons and more of life.”

Poppy nodded. She watched as he allowed himself a brief respite, leaning against the wooden wall of the stall, his gaze distant.

“Life has a way of pushing us forward, even when we’re not ready to move,” she observed softly.

He met her eyes then, and for a fleeting second, she saw the veil lift, revealing a glimpse of the vulnerability he so carefully guarded. “Sometimes, I wish it didn’t,” Jacob confessed.

Poppy reached out tentatively, her hand brushing against his arm in a gesture of solidarity. “We can’t change what’s behind us, Jacob. But maybe we can find something worth moving toward.”

Jacob’s eyes held hers. And in that shared glance, there was an unspoken understanding. His past was filled with hurt, but together they’d try to make their future better.

Later, Poppy and Jacob stood side by side, washing the milk pails at the well. The rhythmic swish of water sloshing against metal was the only sound between them, aside from the occasional snort of a cow from the barn.

“Did you always know you’d become a soldier?” Poppy asked. Her fingers were pruned from the water, but she kept scrubbing, her movements deliberate and mindful.

Jacob paused, his hands stilling over the pail. “My brother and I…we had just lost our parents to a fire. Soldiers were needed and we were both still young enough to think the world of a soldier would be so much better than working in one of the factories.”

Poppy saw the subtle tightness in his jaw. She sensed the memories crowding behind his dark eyes. “Your brother,” she pressed gently, “you were close?”

“Close as two brothers can be,” he replied. He picked up a cloth and resumed wiping the inside of the pail with more vigor than necessary. “I was born fifteen minutes before he was, and I felt like it was my job to take care of him as the older brother. We enlisted together. Promised to watch each other’s backs.”

“And then…?” Her question hung in the air, tentative yet filled with an earnest desire to understand.

He hesitated, the cloth pausing mid-wipe. “Then Shiloh happened.” His voice trembled slightly. “It was chaos—smoke, screams, mud was stained red. We got separated in a charge.” Jacob swallowed hard, the muscle in his throat working. “I found him afterward. It was too late.” He could still see the accusing look in his brother’s eyes as he was dying.

A profound sadness washed over Poppy, seeing the grief that clung to him. She stopped her work, her pail forgotten, and reached out to place a hand over his. “Jacob, I’m so sorry.”

For a moment, Jacob looked down at her hand covering his, and something unspoken passed through his expression. “I should have been there,” he said, the weight of guilt heavy in his tone. “Should’ve died instead of him. It feels like him dying allowed me to live.”

“Survivor’s guilt,” Poppy said softly, her heart aching for the man beside her. “But your life—it has a purpose, Jacob. Your brother wouldn’t want to see you this lost over his death.”

Jacob set the pail down, turning to face her fully, a haunted look in his eyes. “Sometimes it feels like I should have crawled into the coffin beside him. I can’t explain what it’s like to have an identical twin—someone who is very much a part of you. I feel like I lost half of who I am when he died.”

The confession struck Poppy deeply, and she knew this was the source of the walls he had built around himself. Understanding blossomed within her, not just of his pain, but of the immense strength it took to carry such a burden every day.

“Your brother’s memory lives on in you, Jacob. I hope you can find peace in knowing you’re living for the both of you,” she said.

*****

Poppy trailed her fingers along the worn wooden fence that enclosed the dairy cows. She stepped closer to Jacob, who was preoccupied with a stubborn calf that refused to nurse, so he was having to bottle-feed it.

“Jacob,” she began hesitantly. “I’ve been thinking about what you shared…and I want you to know you’re not alone in carrying burdens.”

He paused, the calf momentarily forgotten, his dark eyes flicking toward her. The muscles in his jaw tightened, suggesting he was bracing for words he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

“During our time on the trail,” Poppy continued, “I lost my ma to fever. I was just a girl. My pa…he was never the same. It was like watching him fade away, day by day.” Her gaze dropped, focusing on her hands that fidgeted with the hem of her apron. “Sometimes it feels like I failed them both—like I’m still failing. I think Pa was kept alive for as long as he was by the sheer force of Sarah’s will. When he died…I think we all wanted to die with him.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and raw. For a moment, Jacob’s features softened, and it seemed as if he might reach out. But instead, he turned back to the calf.

“Loss is a part of life, Poppy,” Jacob said, his voice terse as he forced the rubber nipple into the calf’s mouth. “We all have our crosses to bear.”

“Of course,” she replied. “But don’t you see? Sharing them—it can make the burden lighter.”

He shook his head, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. “Or it can double the weight. Some things are better left buried.”

“Even if it means burying a part of yourself?” Poppy pressed. She couldn’t accept that as her answer. She needed him to understand she wanted to share his burdens.

“Especially then.”

Poppy recoiled slightly, feeling the sting of rejection. She had hoped for a connection, but he was resistant.

“Jacob,” she tried again, her words faltering as frustration creased her brow. “I just—”

“Poppy,” he interrupted, setting the now-empty bottle aside and facing her. His eyes held a storm within their depths. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but this isn’t a burden I can share with you.”

“But you can talk to me about what’s happened, and I can understand you better. I know I always feel better when I’ve shared a problem with someone,” she suggested, reaching out a hand, but he moved away from her.

“Poppy…” Jacob’s voice trailed off, the struggle evident in his furrowed brow. “Please, just leave it be.”

She withdrew her hand, folding her arms across her chest in an unconscious defense. The air grew thick with unspoken words.

“All right, Jacob,” Poppy conceded softly, turning away to hide the glimmer of tears that threatened to spill over. “I’ll leave it be.”

*****

“Sarah,” Poppy’s voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of her troubled thoughts.

Sarah looked up, her keen eyes quick to notice the shadow that had settled over her sister. “What is it, Poppy?” she asked, setting her sewing aside. Sarah always gave Poppy and her troubles her full attention, which made Poppy feel important. It was something that had helped her through the sadness after the death of their parents.

“It’s Jacob,” Poppy began. “I fear I’ve reached the end of what I can do. He’s built walls so high around him. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Jacob has been through unimaginable pain,” Sarah reminded her gently. “The loss of his brother, the war…those are not easy things to bear, let alone share.”

“I know, I do,” Poppy said, sinking into a chair opposite Sarah. “But how do I reach him? How do I show him he’s not alone, that the burden he carries doesn’t have to be his alone to bear?”

Sarah considered her sister, her gaze softening. “Love is a powerful thing, Poppy,” she murmured. “But sometimes, love means giving someone the space to heal on their own terms. Just be there for him.”

“Do you think he’ll ever be happy?” Poppy’s hands twisted in her lap. “Or am I just fooling myself, believing that I could be the one to help him find peace?”

“Only Jacob can answer that,” Sarah said. “And perhaps, in trying to help him, you’ll grow closer. But you may end up pushing him away.”

Poppy’s eyes filled with unshed tears as the truth of Sarah’s words sank in.

*****

The morning sun had scarcely crested the horizon when Poppy found Jacob in the barn. His back was to her, muscles tense as he wrestled with the stubborn lid of a milk churn.

“Jacob?”

He didn’t turn, but his shoulders tightened at her approach. “Poppy, what are you doing here so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. She drew a steadying breath, the scent of fresh milk and earth grounding her resolve. “Actually, I came to talk.”

“Talk?” He turned. The wariness in his stance told Poppy this conversation would not be easy.

“About us,” she said, her pulse quickening as she closed the distance between them, mindful of the cows that observed them with mild interest. “I feel like there’s a chasm between us, Jacob. One I don’t know how to cross.”

“Poppy…” His voice was a low rumble of warning.

“Please, hear me out.” She pleaded, her hands instinctively reaching for him before she caught herself and let them fall. “I care for you. But sometimes I fear that no matter what I do, it’ll never be enough. That your heart... is somewhere I can’t reach.”

Jacob’s jaw clenched, and he turned away, busying himself with the task at hand. “I’m not sure what you want from me. I’ve got nothing left to give, Poppy. The war…It took everything.”

“Everything except your life, Jacob. You’re still here, and I believe there’s a reason for that.” Poppy’s voice trembled.

“Is this what you want?!” Jacob exploded suddenly. “To dig up past horrors I’ve spent years trying to bury?”

“Isn’t it exhausting?” She matched his intensity, her own frustrations bubbling to the surface. “Carrying all that pain alone? I just want to help you carry it, Jacob. To share the weight.”

“Share the weight?” His laugh was hollow, bitter. “You think love is some kind of magic cure? It’s not that simple!”

“Then teach me, Jacob!” Poppy’s eyes blazed with the same fiery defiance that mirrored her hair. “Show me how to be there for you, because right now, I feel like I’m grasping at shadows in the dark.”

“Maybe that’s all we are,” he snapped, the words slicing through the tension-charged air. “Shadows of who we once were. You can’t save me, Poppy. And I won’t drag you into my darkness.”

“Then what are we doing?” Her voice cracked, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “What am I to you?”

Jacob’s face contorted, and for a moment, she thought he might reach out to her. But then he turned his back once more, leaving her standing alone.

“Surviving,” he said simply, the word hanging heavy between them, a finality that echoed in the empty spaces of the barn.

Poppy bit back the sob that threatened to escape, retreating with quiet dignity. As she left the barn, the rift between them felt wider than ever. But within her, a small flame of hope flickered.

*****

Poppy approached the fence where Jacob stood alone. His posture was rigid.

“Jacob,” she said softly.

He didn’t turn to look at her, but his body tensed. The air between them was thick with unspoken words and stifled emotions.

“Where do we go from here?” Poppy asked.

Jacob’s hands clenched around the wooden fence, knuckles bleached white. “I don’t know, Poppy,” he admitted. “I wish I did.”

With a sigh that seemed drawn from the very depths of his soul, Jacob turned to face her. In the dimming light, his dark eyes were wells of sorrow.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see it all again…the battlefields, the smoke, the blood.” His voice broke. “And Luke... my brother. He was there one moment, alive, and then—”

Poppy watched as Jacob’s facade crumbled, the stoic soldier giving way to the grieving twin.

“He should’ve been the one to live, not me,” Jacob confessed. “It was supposed to be me. I was the reckless one, always taking chances. But it was Lucas who was shot. And now, every breath I take feels like I’m stealing it from him.”

The weight of his admission hung heavy in the air. Jacob looked lost, a man out of step with time, haunted by a ghost only he could see.

“Is that why you keep everyone at arm’s length? Because you think you don’t deserve happiness after what happened?” Poppy’s voice was gentle, probing the wounds that time had failed to heal.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “Or maybe I’m just trying to protect them from the darkness that seems to follow me, even here.”

She took a step closer. “We all have shadows, Jacob,” she said quietly. “But we also have light. And sometimes, we need someone else to help us find it again.”

His eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, the barriers he had erected seemed to waver. “Help me, Poppy,” Jacob whispered. “I don’t want to be lost anymore.”

Poppy took another step toward Jacob and wrapped her arms around him, feeling him stiffen against her. Slowly, though, he relaxed into her embrace, accepting the comfort she was offering.

“Jacob,” she said softly, the warmth in her touch bridging the distance between them. Her eyes locked onto his. “You carried this burden alone for so long, but you don’t have to anymore. I’m here.”

“Every time I close my eyes,” Jacob said, “I see him... My brother, falling again and again. And I…” He paused, gathering the shards of his soul scattered by the recollection. “I wonder why it wasn’t me.”

“Because you’re meant to be here, Jacob,” Poppy insisted. “Your life—it has purpose.”

“Does it?” He searched her face. “Going west was always Lucas’s dream. We were supposed to do it together after the war. Of course, he didn’t last until after the war.”

“I understand.” She spoke with assurance. “The past may shape us, but it doesn’t define us. We can forge new paths, together.”

A heavy sigh escaped him. In the coolness of the impending night, their breaths mingled.

“Poppy,” he breathed out her name like a prayer. “I never thought I’d find someone who could understand…someone who could look beyond the scars.”

“Scars are just maps of our trials,” she whispered back,. “They lead us to places where we can heal, with the help of others.”

Their gazes remained locked. “Stay with me tonight,” Jacob murmured.

“Always,” Poppy replied.

She prayed that his admission that he needed her would lead to the changes necessary for their marriage to continue.