Jacob's Return by Annette Blair

yard. Shaking her head she went outside.
    She hid her smile as the exact words they sang took form. “My mother-in-law’s a cadaver, she lets the noodles burn, she turns the pancakes with a pitchfork—”
    They stopped when they saw her and she nearly laughed at their guilty faces. They looked at each other, shrugged, and began to sing, Bringing in the Sheaves .
    When Caliope stopped, Jacob threw her the reins. “Hey, Mudpie. Got your press.”
    “A mother-in-law song first, then a Mennonite one you sing, Jacob? You couldn’t do better?”
    “Ach, Rache.” He smiled sheepishly. “I couldn’t remember the sailor one.”
    “Good. Atlee give you any trouble?”
    “Just cider.” Ruben grinned and lifted her in the air to turn her in circles. “Hey, Mudpie. Got something good to eat?”
    “You smell like the inside of a barn, Ruben Miller.”
    “Why thank you, Rachel. I thought I smelled worse than that.”
    “You do,” Jacob said. “She’s just being polite.”
    Simon stood by the barn door wiping his hands on a rag, his usual grimace in place.
    Ruben rubbed his hands together. “Hey Jake. Let’s get to pulling those three or four chest hairs. This is the most fun I’ve had in years.”
    Rachel looked to Jacob for an explanation.
    “You don’t want to know. Can the rascal stay for supper?”
    “Sure. Quit at four and send him home with the buggy to take a bath and change his clothes. Esther’s coming for supper too.”
    Jacob put his hand on her arm. “Ach, not for me, Rache.”
    “For supper ,” she said.
    They looked at each other, and Rachel knew if Jacob married, it would break her heart. But he wasn’t hers, and she’d best remember it.
    “Good mothering, Rachel,” Simon said indicating the house with a nod. “Looks like those normal two-year-olds learned something new today. Without your help.”
    Everyone turned to look, and Jacob laughed.
    Emma and Aaron stood on the porch, naked as sheep after shearing. “Pa-pop, Pa-pop,” they called, jumping up and down.
    “Ach, you two,” Jacob said. “Where are their clothes?” he asked Rachel.
    “In their beds? They were napping ten minutes ago.”
    “Two new things today,” Jacob said as he scooped them up and brought them toward Ruben. “To climb from their cribs and to remove their clothes. Smart babies I got. Ruben here is my Emma and my Aaron.”
    For a minute Rachel thought Ruben would cry. Then he squared his shoulders and gave them a big smile. “Pleased to meet you,” he said. “Can you say, Ruuu ben?”
    “Boob,” Emma said, raising her arms to him.
    That tormented look passed over his face again, but more quickly this time. He took Emma into his arms and hugged her.
    Emma sniffed daintily, then leaned back looking at him uncertainly. She crinkled her nose.
    Ruben’s laughter erupted full force.
    Having Jacob home might bring Ruben back to the living. Or it might finish him off. Either way, Rachel thought, it would be better for Ruben than being neither one nor the other.
    “Why do my children have red fingertips?” Aaron opened his mouth and showed his father his tongue. “Ah, yes,” Jacob said. “And red tongues too?”
    “Churries!” Aaron said.
    Rachel nodded. “We went cherry picking this morning. With those two, it was one for the bucket, two for the mouth. A pit or two, I think, they swallowed, before they got the hang of spitting them out. But when they understood the way of it, the spitting they did best of all.”
    “Smart, didn’t I say so?”
    Rachel took the naked monkeys into the house to re-clothe them. Ruben and Jacob went to unload the press.
    Jacob and Ruben, sweating and grunting, lowered the Gutenberg from the back of the market buggy into the far corner of the barn’s lower-level near the window.
    Simon watched.
    “We could have used your help,” Jacob said, as he wiped his brow with his sleeve.
    “Not for this will I raise one finger. Everything to do with that newspaper is against the