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If there was one major thing that Jacob truly missed from the city, it would be the sidewalks. It sounded a bit silly, well, more than a bit, but there were few places in the city without them. If you wanted to get to the corner store, you walked down 11th Street; if you wanted to buy a CD, you went to Market Street. It was easy as that. Here in Hope Crossing, it was necessary to traverse cornfields, patches of forest, and even the occasional stream if you wanted to get from one place to the next. These people had taken far too literally the concept of 'the shortest distance between two points'.
On that note, Jacob was trouncing through a snow-covered cornfield; each step sinking and crunching against the dead soil beneath a layer of white powder. Today the snow was kind, but tomorrow it could be as slushy as a poorly made snow cone. The only place that was clear in Hope Crossing was the network of roads connecting the houses, and the main road through town. From what he understood, a man named Mr. Miller was paid to drive a plow through the streets each morning, assuming they needed it. Then again, he was paid all winter whether needed or not. He had made himself responsible for both Hope Crossing andChestnut Grove, a community with which Hope Crossing shared a border. He must make a small fortune during the snowy season that was for sure.
None of that mattered, however, in the fields where Jacob and so many other children tended to walk, beneath open blue skies at the mercy of the pounding wind. What he would have given for a snowmobile.
Any Englischer, save for Jacob of course, who walked along these back areas would have most likely given up long ago. He had after all been walking for about an hour with no destination in sight. What most people did not realize was that the destination, no matter what it was, could be just over the horizon if you walked a bit further. Not everything had to be obvious – one of the many lessons that Jacob had learned during his time in Hope Crossing.
In his case, the destination was nearing faster than he had imagined. It was the old Pine Tree, near Hickory Road. This was an odd spot, sitting between two property lines, which no one had bothered to claim. As Jacob had come to understand, the tree had been zoned residential, but as its own property, and had never been absorbed into any other property. Essentially, city property, outside the city's reach. Along with the tree came a small patch of land, roughly the size of the Mast house. It was dotted with rocks, large enough for one to sit on, and surrounded by brush, difficult to see through in the winter, but impossible in the summer.
Many in Hope Crossing had spent their childhood beneath the pine tree, playing games facilitated by their imagination. For the past few years, however, Jacob had been coming here for a different, reason altogether. As he walked through the entrance,which required the navigation of several different branches and even a briar, he emerged into the clearing, now stripped bare by winter's decaying imagination.
“I thought you were not coming,” Deborah Weaver said, smiling at him from the boulder on which she sat, her coat pulled out neatly over her lap as if she had been straightening it for hours.
“I had...a thing...” Jacob said as he walked to the boulder to join her.
“Your mother,” she nodded, “Everyone has heard by now.” “What are they saying?'
“What you'd expect. Most people think you are causing trouble again, and my father hopes you will leave the Crossing.”
“If he keeps it up,” Jacob said, “I'll burn his barn down for real this time.”
Deborah pushed herself up from the rock, spun, and gave Jacob a very serious look.
“You should not speak like that!” she said sternly. “It is talk like that that lands you in trouble! It is what makes people not want to trust you!”
“People need to relax,” Jacob argued. “I'm just jok—”
“It is your joking that has destroyed us!” Deborah screamed. “You joke, you joke, and you joke. You walk around like you own this place, and people take notice! That is why we can never be together except in secret like now! “
“Of course, we can be together,” Jacob said. “Your father can't stop us—”
Deborah suddenly moved in close, grabbing Jacob by the shoulders and moving her face uncomfortably close to his.
“Do you have not the slightest notion of how things work around here?” she demanded. “I do not go against my father. Children obey your parents in the Lord for this is right. Do you recognize the words? They are not for show. We follow them; we love the Lord and our parents with all our heart. Ugh! How can an outsider like you ever understand this?”
“Now look,” Jacob said, rising from the rock. “I understand plenty. You don't have to lecture me on—”
“My father has chosen someone for me!” Deborah screamed. “It is too late for us! It is too late for anything!”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Jacob said. “What do you mean, he's chosen someone for you? He can't just tell you who you're going to marry.”
“He can if he feels I am going astray, and with you, it seems I am, even if I do not believe it.”
“Let me talk to him,” Jacob said. “I can change his mind, I promise.”
“Do you really think that you can change his mind?”
Jacob moved forward, rather unexpectedly and planted a kiss on Deborah Weaver's lips. He had practice, of course, but for Deborah, this was her very first kiss, and it wasn't welcome. He pulled away immediately when he realized she wasn't reciprocating. Instead, she stared at him with a look that seemed to be a mix of horror and shame.
“I...” She stammered. “I cannot...you...”
“What's wrong?” He demanded. “Don't you like me?”
“I do!” She insisted. “I really do but this...this is not the way we do things here!”
“You don't kiss?”
“No...I...we do,” Deborah said as she turned and faced the wall of the 'clearing'. “It is simply..we...I must save me.”
“We have two different ideas of saving—”
She paused for a moment, then found herself back in Jacob's arms, her lips pressed firmly against his. The embrace lasted for about a minute if that; it was the most amazing, warm, and safe thing that Jacob had ever felt. It ended too soon, and she pulled away from him, staring at the ground.
“We..we cannot do this,” she said. “I...my father, he has chosen for me, and I will obey.”
“You don't have to obey!” he said insistently. “It's your choice!”
“Choice?!” she demanded. “What makes you think I have a choice?”
“Everyone has a choice!” Jacob said. “You just have to makeit.”
“And be condemned to hellfire?! For all eternity?!.” She screamed, backing away, her eyes wide. Jacob stepped forward immediately and placed his hands on her shoulders.
“No!” He shouted. “God gave us free will! We can do what we want!”
“Where did you hear about free will?” she demanded, “Did you hear about it in one of your silly English churches? Look in the Bible, read it, study it! Find your free will in there, I challenge you to do so!”
“Even if that's true, what if it's all wrong?” Jacob said, raising his arms. “What if...what if everything you've been told is wrong? What if you can be happy? It's just one book out of a million others! Has God ever spoken to you? Do you know he exists?”
That seemed to stop her in her tracks. She thought for a moment, her expression becoming softer as the moments went by, but soon enough, it hardened and she became resolute.
“I know the truth,” She said. “I know the truth!”
“There's another truth!” Jacob argued. “We could leave here, together, and be happy! On the other hand, you could leave and find your own happiness! Who cares? You don't have to do ANYTHING you don't want!”
“Then, on that note,” She said, raising her head stiffly. “I want to stay here, in Hope Crossing, and I want nothing to do with you!” She lifted the folds of her dress, spun on her heel, and exited the clearing. That certainly could have gone better.Jacob waited a moment before leaving through the same exit, fighting with the same briar patch on the way through. He cursed loud, thankful that his unproductive tongue would be masked by the sweeping winds. As always, he found himself outside the clearing, though managed to trip and fall face first into the snow. He cursed gain as he found himself upright, and discovered that he had managed to tear the arm of his Carhart jacket. Nothing that Dorothy or Sarah could not fix, but still irritating nonetheless. He growled and took off toward town. It would be a long trip without the buggy, but he was already halfway there.
