Cheryl Reavis (6 page)

Her mouth trembled, but she worked hard not to give in to it. Clearly, Lise expected him to stand guard indefinitely.

“Your Aunt Caroline left by her own choice—”

“No, she didn’t, Papa! She left because Beata is going to be mean to everybody if she stays. Papa—”

He held up his hand to stop her.

“You don’t worry about your Aunt Caroline. You don’t worry about any of those people over there.”

Caroline heard the back door slam, and Frederich caught up with her before she reached the edge of the Graeber land.

“I have something to say to you, Caroline Holt. This is—”

“What do you want, Frederich?” she interrupted. She stopped walking, and she forced herself to look him in the eye.

“What do
I
want? I want to keep you from making the scandal any bigger than it already is.”

They stared at each other. She abruptly looked away.

“What is wrong with you?” he said angrily. “You behave as if you have some choice about what you will do! You don’t. You are pregnant. Avery doesn’t want you or your brat. It falls to me to keep
my
family from becoming any more of a laughingstock than it already is. I am going to keep the family’s honor—the honor
you
drag through the mud as if there is nobody to suffer the consequences but you. There is only one thing to be done. You don’t start everybody talking all over again about the marriage. Do you understand?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t!”

“My daughters are crying—Beata is starving us to death hiding everything she can get her hands on—Eli has disappeared! All this is
your
fault. Do you understand that? Going to Avery—begging Avery—will only make our trouble worse. Worse for you—worse for—”

She looked away from his penetrating gaze. She did understand after all. She understood perfectly. How terrible for Frederich to have to keep her when he wanted so desperately to be rid of her.

“Frederich, I—” she began, looking back at him. But he was staring at her clothes. “Come,” he interrupted. “We go see Avery now.”

“Go see—Frederich, you just said you didn’t—”

“You are beginning to stink. You need your clothes. We’ll go and get them, and you don’t say anything to your brother about this notion you have of coming home. You can manage that, surely.”

He took her by the arm to start her walking, letting go almost immediately as if he found touching her distasteful. And he kept giving her wary glances as they crossed the field.

“Say nothing!” he admonished her as they neared the house, and she had to bite her lip to suppress an angry reply. She wasn’t stupid about everything. Just her choices of lovers and husbands.

She could see John Steigermann standing in the yard-perhaps advising William of her marriage as she’d asked. Under better circumstances and with a different companion, the walk here would have been pleasant enough. It was cold still, but without the biting wind of yesterday. Spring always came quickly in this part of the country; winter one week and budding leaves the next. She noted with some surprise that she was looking forward to the dogwoods and jonquils just as she always did. And she noted, too, that she
was actually going to try to have a civil conversation with Avery after what he had done.

Better to ask for her clothes than for sanctuary, she thought.

John Steigermann and William and Avery were all staring at her as she and Frederich approached. They would, of course, be surprised to see her out today. She was newly married and should be attending to her wifely duties.

“Ah!” John Steigermann said immediately, waving her closer. “Frederich! Caroline! Come hear this. You will want to know the news.”

“What news?” she asked, glancing at Avery as he swallowed whatever unpleasant thing he would have said to her if both John Steigermann and Frederich hadn’t been there.

“The army has gone through again foraging supplies,” Steigermann said. “Penn Palmer says they took every decent horse he had. Steal is what they do. Paying with pieces of paper no one wants to honor. I say we go to the garrison in town—we see what they will do about paying real money for what they take. And look at this, Caroline,” he said taking a folded newspaper from his coat pocket. “You will read what this says, yes? I can’t read the English so good.”

She took the paper he handed her. “New call for troops,” she read aloud. “The following is under proclamation of the President, extending the call under the Conscript Act, to embrace all residents of the Confederacy between the ages of eighteen and forty-five years, not legally exempt—”

John Steigermann frowned and motioned for Caroline to keep reading.

“Foreigners,” she went on, “who are actual residents, will be called upon to do military service in defense of the country in which they reside.”

“Let me see that,” Avery said, snatching the newspaper out of her band and reading it himself. “That’s what it says. I’ve got my farmer’s exemption—but this is going to get a lot of you Germans if you aren’t careful.”

“And how can we Germans be careful, Avery?” Frederich asked. “Do we go hide in the woods and leave the women and children to work the farms?”

“You can go into town and see about a farmer’s exemption the same as I did,” Avery said.

“That is not so easy when the man who takes the bribe changes every week.”

“It isn’t a bribe, Frederich. It’s
a fee.
“

“Call it what name you will, Avery Holt. It is what it is.”

Caroline stepped away as the discussion became more heated. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She was tired from the walk. And from arguing with Frederich, and before him, Beata.

Isn’t there someplace where I can just live in peace?

“Caroline,” William said.

She looked around at him. He was standing awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by her new status and not knowing what to say.

“Hello, William,” she said, forcing a smile she didn’t begin to feel.

“I got something for you,” he said, motioning her toward the house.

Avery glanced at him but didn’t intervene.

“What is it?” Caroline asked, letting William take her by the hand.

“I got your clothes all together,” he said. “I reckon you’re going to need them until Frederich can buy you some more.”

“William—”

“I got your dresses bundled and everything else in Mama’s old straw valise—I reckon the handle will stay on. I was going to sneak them over to you first chance I got. But since you’re here, I can give them to you now. And I reckon you’ll be wanting your books and all—me and Avery sure ain’t going to be reading them.”

“William—”

“It’s all right now, ain’t it, Caroline? You’ll be all right with Frederich, won’t you? You know I never in a million years thought
he’d
be the one you’d end up marrying. See, I never thought you’d marry at all—” He broke off, apparently realizing that his comment was less than tactful. “It’s good Frederich could come over to help you carry this stuff,” he decided, and he was looking at her so earnestly.

I have to come home, William.

She pursed her lips and tried to say the words, but she couldn’t manage it. William was so happy for her. He thought she was safe now.

“I’ll get your clothes,” William said, turning and bounding up the steps into the house.

She stood there still wanting to ask Avery—to beg him to let her come home. Surely,
surely,
he’d let her. He wouldn’t lose face. She could tell him that people would think the better of him—John Steigermann would think the better of him if he did this for her.

Frederich came and stood next to her as if he could feel her wavering, and William bounded out of the house with her dresses and the valise.

“Here you are, Caroline,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, Frederich, you’re not mad at Caroline anymore, are you?”

Frederich took the valise out of William’s hand without answering.

“There is more to bring or not?” he asked Caroline.

“I can get your books, Caroline,” William suddenly offered. “Since Frederich’s going to be carrying your things for you. I can put them in a pillow slip, all right? I’ll be right back—”

He was off running again.

Caroline abruptly bowed her head. How could she let Frederich haul her back? And how could she ask Avery for anything?

“Stay here,” Frederich said, slinging the valise at her because the ground was too muddy for him to set it down. “I will speak to your brother.”

She stood there, meekly holding everything she owned in her arms, feeling like the fallen woman she was as she watched Frederich approach Avery. Her brother was wary at first. And he kept glancing at her, his righteous indignation all too apparent.

“Ja! Gut!”
John Steigermann said, listening intently to whatever Frederich said.

She couldn’t hear anything else.

What now, Frederich?
she thought.

She kept making the same stupid mistake. She kept putting her trust in men who didn’t care. Avery. Kader. And now Frederich, who seemed to actually think he could stand a marriage to a woman pregnant by another man.

After a moment, Frederich and Avery walked into the barn and closed the door, leaving John Steigermann standing. Frederich came out again, leading one of Avery’s saddle horses.

“Caroline, we’ll go now,” he called to her.

She walked to where he stood, hating the meekness of every step she took.

“Your brother is going to lend you a horse so you don’t have to walk back,” he said.

She looked at him doubtfully, then handed him the valise and let him lift her and it onto the horse’s back. She said nothing, trying not feel his broad hands on her waist or the pain he caused on her bruises when he hoisted her upward.

William came running with the pillow slip full of books.

“Say hello to the girls from Uncle William,” he said, handing it up to her. His farm boy hands had left smudge marks on the crisp, starched whiteness of the pillow slip.

She forced a smile, her eyes meeting Frederich’s over the top of William’s head.

Frederich took the horse by the bridle, watching Caroline closely to see if she was going to return with him quietly after all. His right hand hurt. His knuckles were bleeding.

“Do me a favor,” he said to John Steigermann in German. “See about Caroline’s brother. See if I’ve killed him.”

C
aroline slept fitfully and woke early. She had taken the precaution of bolting the door, but she was still surprised that Frederich hadn’t bothered coming to her bed. She was surprised, too, to find Beata already in the kitchen when she came downstairs. She had resolved sometime during the night not to concern herself about Beata Graeber. She would think of nothing but the children—Ann’s and her own unborn child. And she wouldn’t think about Kader or Frederich. She would fix her attention firmly on the girls and on her baby to come, and in doing so, she might tolerate—at least tolerate—living here.

But the sight of Beata’s smug expression when she came into the kitchen immediately put an end to her determination to endure. She had no defense against this woman, and she braced herself for whatever Beata wanted to say. She didn’t have long to wait.

“So! Caroline!” Beata said with a slight smile. “Who did you find to sleep with last night? Ha!”

Beata’s chopped-off laugh set her teeth on edge. She closed her eyes and bit down on her bottom lip to keep from making some retort she’d surely regret later. Both children sat at the trestle table, looking from her to Beata and back again.

“It doesn’t matter what you say to me, Beata,” she said
quietly. “But it matters a great deal
where
you say it.”

“They will know sooner or later the kind of woman you are. It might as well be—”

Beata broke off because Frederich was coming in from the barn. He greeted Lise and Mary Louise, patting both of them on the cheek as Caroline had seen him do once before. This fatherly side of Frederich still amazed her, but thankfully he had nothing to say to her. Indeed, he studiously avoided looking in her direction at all. He looked at the table instead and said something to Beata in German. Beata immediately took offense. Frederich spoke louder. After a moment, Beata whirled away from him and went to the dish cupboard to get another plate.

Her
plate, Caroline realized.

Beata set it on the table in a huff, all but throwing the knife and fork that went with it.

“Beata has no manners,” Frederich said in English to Lise and Mary Louise as he sat down. “I do not expect to ever see either of you behave in this way.”

“I won’t wait on that—!” Beata shouted, biting off the epithet she didn’t quite have the nerve to use.

“Nor anyone else, either, it seems,” Frederich said. “I have twice the work to be done with Eli gone. I can’t do yours as well. I intend to have peace in this house. You will see to the kitchen—and I don’t mean to hide everything like a silly vindictive child. Caroline will stay out of your way. She won’t bother anything that is yours. Do you understand that, Caroline?”

He looked in Caroline’s direction. Her back was rigid and her chin up. And she was looking at him as if he’d just done something to remove all doubt from her mind that he was as uncivilized and crude as she’d always suspected.

He forced himself to hold her gaze, forced himself to not to let his eyes stray to the soft swell of her breasts. She was almost pretty this morning, in spite of the bruises on her face. Her hair was brushed and braided. She looked clean,
freshly scrubbed. He could just smell the soap she’d used to wash in. And the dress was different—pink-checked instead of the faded yellow calico.

But he would not allow himself to be affected by any improvements in her personal appearance. Caroline Holt carried another man’s child, a child he still thought of as a bastard regardless of their sham of a marriage. She still insisted on behaving as if she’d done nothing wrong. She made no excuses. She clearly disdained any kind of forgiveness. She had no remorse for the shame she’d caused the family—his family. “I have asked you a question,” he said evenly. “Do you intend to answer me or are you as ill-mannered as my sister?”

Caroline and Beata both protested.

“Sit down!” he bellowed.

They sat.

“Good,” he said, looking from one to the other. “Caroline, you will take care of the children. Do you understand
that?”
He glanced at Beata, who was about to flutter her hands and make another protest.

“Yes,” Caroline said, hating the meek sound of her voice.
It’s only for the children,
she thought, trying to find her resolve again.
I don’t want them upset by all this animosity.

“Are you learned enough to teach Lise here at home so that she doesn’t have to be sent to the school?” Frederich asked.

“Yes,” she said again.

“Good. Then I want her taught here. We will say grace now—”

But Beata had stood it as long as she could. She burst forth in angry German.

“Kader Gerhardt will not go hungry because I take my one child out of his school!” Frederich snapped in English. “You always tell me my children make too much work for you. Caroline will take care of them now
and
the schooling.”

Caroline sat in silence, making some attempt to follow Frederich’s German table grace and taking the bowls of fried ham and fried potatoes and fried cabbage and fried apples Lise handed to her when it was over. But, for once, her stomach didn’t rebel at the sight and smell of heavy German food. She was hungry, regardless of the ill will at the breakfast table, and she ate more than she had in days. There was practically no conversation except when Frederich wanted this or that handed to him and when Beata chastised Mary Louise for giving up eating to wiggle.

Caroline looked up several times to find Frederich watching her, and she stared back at him. She would give in on matters concerning the children in order to keep peace in the household, but he wouldn’t intimidate her about anything else. Yes, her presence was nothing if not disruptive and yes, she was
perhaps
indirectly responsible for Eli’s glaring absence—but there was nothing she could do about it;

For heaven’s sake, what?
she thought when she caught Frederich staring at her yet another time. She longed for a decent bath, but she had made a point of effecting one of sorts in the freezing upstairs room. She’d changed her clothes. She didn’t stink any longer, as he’d so rudely pointed out yesterday. She was trying to keep her manners at least on the same level as Beata’s. She’d agreed to everything he wanted.

Beata said something to Frederich in German and he scowled. But, for once, Caroline thought that whatever Beata had said had nothing to do with her. She tried William’s trick of trying to understand without having any command of the language. It didn’t work.

“I’ve lost a day getting the plowing done,” Frederich said in English.

He was looking at her again, but this time as if he expected some response. She took it for the complaint it was.

“What do you want me to say, Frederich? I’m sorry? Very well. I am
sorry.”
She abruptly stood up and began clearing her place the way she would have if she’d been at home, but then she stopped. “Forgive me, Beata,” she said. “If I understand the rules, this is your job.”

She left Frederich and Beata sitting and went upstairs. Better to pace the confines of the room she’d been given than provoke another altercation. She was surprised that Frederich would remove Lise from the German school and still more surprised that he would ask—
tell—
her to teach the child, regardless of William’s theory that Frederich’s need for someone to school his children was at the heart of his marriage proposal in the first place. If Frederich already thought that Kader was unfit to teach German children, he could hardly think her a suitable alternative.

She walked to the window and looked down on the yard below. Frederich was harnessing the great Belgians he used for plowing. She watched as he kissed his daughters goodbye. Had he always been this kind and affectionate to them? she wondered. Or only since Ann died?

She stepped abruptly back from the window because he looked upward in her direction.

The weather had turned much warmer, and she took the girls outside to their own small garden to work. The three of them spent the morning turning the soil and weeding. Ann had helped the girls do this last year. She had been full of life then, full of hope and anticipation about the arrival of her new baby. It was only when Caroline pulled the covering of leaves away from a row of jonquils that she came close to crying. Their mother had brought the jonquil bulbs from her parents’ fine garden in town after she’d married their father, and Caroline in turn had given an apronful to Ann when she’d gone to Frederich.

I miss you so,
she thought, gently uncovering the tender green shoots.
I miss you and Mama both.
She looked up to
find Lise and Mary Louise gone quiet and obviously worrying about her state of mind.

“Don’t cry,” Mary Louise said, her eyes big. She reached out to give Caroline little sympathetic hit-and-miss pats on the arm. “Papa can bring you candy next he goes to townpeppermint candy, Aunt Caroline. Then you’ll feel better. Don’t cry.”

“I won’t,” she said. “But I think I need a hug and a kiss until the peppermint gets here.”

She was immediately swamped with affection. She was so glad to be with the girls. She was glad, too, that Frederich didn’t seem interested in her except as a children’s nurse. Perhaps she
could
stand it here—if she didn’t have to worry about whether or not Frederich would spend the night in her bed.

She abruptly looked up at the sky. The sun was lowering. “I think we’ve missed the
Mittagessen,
“ she said, getting up from her knees.

“No, we didn’t,” Lise said. “Beata didn’t call us.”

Exactly,
Caroline thought but didn’t say.

They walked hand in hand back to the house. Apparently Frederich had eaten and gone, because Beata had already cleared the table. She glanced up when they came in, but she didn’t interrupt her dishwashing.

“I don’t wait a meal forever,” she said. “You heard me calling you.”

Caroline took a deep breath. “No,” she said evenly. “Apparently Lise and Mary Louise—”

“If you chose to ignore me then you go—”

“—and I have all gone deaf!”

“—hungry!”

Beata turned her back.

“The children need to eat, Beata,” Caroline said, trying hard not to lose her temper.

“Of course they do,” Beata said, but she made no move in that direction.

Caroline waited. Finally, Beata looked around at her.

“If I understand the rules,” she said,
“that is your
job.”

“Fine,” Caroline said. She didn’t mind putting together a meal for the children; she just didn’t want to have to fight Beata tooth and nail to do it. She managed to melt cheese on bread she toasted in the heavy iron skillet with legs—without dragging her skirts through the hot coals or burning the bread.

The meal was pleasant enough, the rest of the day was pleasant enough, at least until Frederich returned. The sun was nearly down when he came in. He was ill-tempered and clearly exhausted. Caroline took the children upstairs almost immediately after they’d eaten to keep them out of his way. He was the old Frederich she remembered, and she didn’t want Lise and Mary Louise any more distressed by the day’s events than they already were.

She waited until they were both asleep and the house quiet before she unbolted the door and came downstairs again. She felt assured now that, for the moment at least, Frederich had no intention of demanding his conjugal rights, but she was still far too restless to retire. She intended to flagrantly take some wood from the back porch so that she could have a fire in her room upstairs. She wanted to create a warm, quiet place to read for a time before she went to bed. She had always been able to take pleasure in little things, a talent she would sorely need in this house.

She made her way to the worktable in the kitchen without lighting a lamp, then felt along it toward the back door. The moon was shining when she stepped outside, the night quiet and frosty. She could make out the wood box in the dark, and she loaded her arms with one log and several smaller cut pieces, hoping she hadn’t included a spider. She stood for a moment looking out across the field toward the Holt farm. Avery was still awake. She could see a light from the house shining through the trees. She wondered idly why he hadn’t come today to fetch the horse he’d loaned to
Frederich. That he’d loan it in the first place was amazing enough. That he hadn’t come after it today was incredible.

She gave a quiet sigh. She didn’t miss Avery, but she did miss William. She carried the wood high, careful of her belly.

My poor baby,
she thought as she stepped inside.
Who will love it but me?
Lise and Mary Louise perhaps—if Frederich and Beata would let them.

She kicked the back door closed and crossed the kitchen carefully, not sure where in the darkness Beata might have left a stool or a churn. She stopped for a moment midway, sticking her foot out to make sure there was nothing in front of her.

“You are looking for your…husband?”

She jumped violently, dropping the wood heavily on the floor. Frederich lay sprawled on the settle in the dark. She could hear him fumbling about, and, after a moment, a single candle glowed in the darkness. She realized immediately that he must have been drinking—still was drinking. She could smell the plum brandy and just make out the bottle he held in his hand. Ann had never told her that Frederich sat up alone drinking at night.

“No,” she said shortly, bending down to pick up the wood.

“No,” he repeated, his sarcasm readily apparent. “Your bastard has a name, so you have no need for your
husband,
is that so?”

“Yes,” she answered, and he gave a short laugh.

“A Holt who tells the truth,” he said, lifting the bottle high in the air. “What a surprise. I drink to you.”

She continued to pick up the wood, saying nothing.

“I asked you to look after my children today, Caroline Holt, not starve them,” he rambled on. “You are nothing but trouble. What do you say to that?”

“Told,” she said without looking in his direction. “You didn’t
ask
anything.”

“Ah. So I did. Maybe…I will ask you something now.”