Robin Lee Hatcher (7 page)

Chapter Ten

K
arola’s housekeeping duties included the cooking and baking, the washing and ironing, the dusting, sweeping, and mopping. There were beds to be made and mending to be done and eggs to be gathered. But Karola thought all of that would be easy in comparison to her role as nursemaid, particularly when it came to the eldest Hirsch child.

“My ma was prettier than you.” Maeve spoke from the doorway of her brother’s bedroom.

Karola turned, clutching the just-removed bedding in her arms. She was certain the girl hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but she was hurt nonetheless. She did her best to hide it. “Do you look like her, Maeve? You are pretty.”

Maeve’s chin quivered and her eyes grew bright. She shook her head, then without another word, disappeared down the hallway.

Karola sighed.

It was only her first full day working in Jakob’s home, but she wasn’t off to a great start. Jakob had left for the fields immediately after breakfast, leaving Karola with only a few instructions. It seemed he’d expected her to simply know what to do as well as where to find whatever she needed. But she didn’t know what or where. And now it seemed she’d upset Maeve, perhaps made her cry.

Would it be better to pursue the girl or to leave her be? She didn’t know. She couldn’t be sure, and so she chose the latter because it was easier.

Karola dropped the sheets and blankets into a pile near the door, then took the clean bedding from the chair where she’d placed them earlier and proceeded to make Bernard’s bed.

“My ma was prettier than you.”

It wasn’t wrong for a child to think her mother prettier than others. In fact, it seemed quite natural. The comment shouldn’t have hurt Karola this much. But it did.

She smoothed the top sheet with the palm of her hand while worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Karola loved being with and caring for children. She’d wanted a large family of her own, partly because she’d hated being an only child herself. She’d longed for brothers and sisters when she was young.

But loving children didn’t guarantee Karola the wisdom she would need when it came to dealing with a little girl who missed her mother.

With a sigh, she lifted the dirty linens and carried them out of the bedroom and down two flights of stairs to the laundry room in the basement, where she dropped them onto the growing pile of dirty clothes and bedding.

When
was
the last time Jakob had washed anything? Karola wondered. Then she tried to imagine her father doing laundry. An impossible image to conjure. Gottfried Breit gave no thought to how or why he had a clean white apron to don each morning as he began his workday. Karola doubted he knew how hard his wife labored to make certain he did.

She pictured her mother then, not scrubbing clothes in a washbasin but down on her knees, her worn Bible open on the bed before her. It was the way Frieda Breit began every day, in an attitude of prayer.

I should ask God to help me with Maeve
.

Hadn’t she read in her Bible that it was the Lord who gave wisdom and that out of his mouth came knowledge and understanding? Of
course
she should ask him for help. She should have done so earlier.

Quickly, she knelt on the cold, stone floor beside the mound of dirty laundry. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and clasped her hands before her chest.

Lord, help me to help Maeve. I do not know what to do for
her or what to say to her. I can see that she is hurting, but I am
not wise enough on my own to know what to do. I need your wisdom,
Almighty God. For whatever purpose, you brought me to
this family. Help me to do your will in my time with them.

She waited for a brilliant flash of understanding, but none came. It seemed she would be forced to exercise patience as she waited to become wise.

Jakob lifted the control gate, allowing water to spill through the opening and rush along the narrow ditch toward the alfalfa fields. He hoped that within two years he’d have all of his land under irrigation. Maybe then he’d be able to attempt a few more profitable crops.

Not that he hadn’t done well with the wheat and alfalfa. He had. But he wouldn’t mind a little more money with which to line his pockets as protection against future hard times.

He grabbed the shovel from the ground and followed the ditch toward the east.

In his first year in this valley, Jakob had become actively involved in the fledgling Shadow Creek Irrigation Project. He’d spent many evenings poring over government reports and reading agricultural articles in newspapers and magazines. He knew as well as any of the farmers in this valley—and better than most— that irrigation wasn’t a solution to all of their ills. It couldn’t prevent a drought, and it certainly wasn’t effective if a farmer didn’t properly grade his land or if he continually spread too much water on his fields.

Bradley Mason, who owned the section of land to the south of the Hirsch farm, was a good case in point. Jakob would be the first to admit that his neighbor had a heart of gold and was generous to a fault, but Bradley was also unbelievably inept when it came to understanding the mechanics of irrigation. Try though he might, no amount of cursing had enabled Bradley to force water to flow uphill, and it certainly hadn’t kept him from finding himself mired up to his knees in mud on more than one occasion due to both seepage and overwatering.

To be fair, Jakob had at times applied too much water to his land, too. Gauging the exact amount of moisture needed was difficult, if not impossible. There were so many variables to consider— the type of soil, the lay of the land, rain or the lack of it, temperatures, the particular plants under cultivation. Nature stubbornly resisted a farmer’s attempts to control and regiment it, and that went for irrigation, too.

Or maybe it was the farmer who was stubborn, Jakob mused. He remembered the many times his father had stood at the head of the table, his sons seated to his left and his right, as he quoted the Scripture:
“Cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt
thou eat of it all the days of thy life; Thorns also and thistles shall
it bring forth to thee; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field; In
the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto
the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and
unto dust shalt thou return.”

He paused in his chores to look upward. “So if the land’s cursed, why do I love it so?”

It was a rhetorical question. Jakob anticipated no response from the Almighty. He’d never been a man who expected God’s intervention in his life. He didn’t doubt God’s existence or else he wouldn’t be so faithful in his church attendance. But from what he’d seen in life, God let men fend for themselves the best they could. People lived and died while God looked on.

Unto dust shalt thou return …

Like Siobhan.

It seemed only yesterday that Aislinn had entered the world as Siobhan left it. And at the same time, it seemed decades ago. Jakob had passed those first weeks and months in a fog of grief. He hadn’t believed the people who’d told him time would soften the loss, but they’d been right. Time did have a way of healing the wounds.

He turned, looking toward the farmhouse, wondering how Karola was managing with the housework and the children. He hadn’t exactly given her an abundance of instructions, nor had she asked many questions. She’d arrived at dawn, her shoulders wrapped in a shawl against the morning chill, and he’d left her in charge with hardly a greeting.

Not a very decent way to treat the woman he’d intended to make his wife. Would he have interacted with her in the same careless manner had they married?

He found the silent question unsettling. He liked to think he was a better man than that. But then, a better man would have done many things differently than he had, especially when it came to Karola Breit. Many things.

With a scowl, he set off toward the alfalfa fields, hoping some hard manual labor would clear his head.

It mattered little to Theodora Shrum that Jakob Hirsch was Lutheran by church membership. By all rights, Dorotea Joki should be the one visiting the Hirsch farm today, but Theodora knew the woman would never lift a finger to make Karola Breit feel welcome in the community, not since Dorotea’s chances of snaring the handsome widower had vanished. Therefore, Theodora took it upon herself to do so, bringing with her not only a number of baked goods provided by a few of the women in the Methodist congregation but also her daughter.

Clucking to the horse, Theodora jiggled the reins, asking him for a bit more speed. “We won’t stay long,” she said above the rattle of harness. “I’m sure Miss Breit has enough on her hands without feeling she must entertain guests.”

“Why do you suppose she did this, Mother?”

Theodora looked at her daughter. “Did what, Emma?”

“Why would Miss Breit choose to work for Mr. Hirsch rather than marry him?”

“I don’t know.” Theodora had wondered that very thing, but she didn’t say so to her daughter. “Of course, no marriage should be entered into lightly.”

“Charlotte says it was really Mr. Hirsch who changed his mind. She says once he saw Miss Breit again after all those years he realized he couldn’t possibly marry her, and so they pretended it was Miss Breit who stopped the wedding so she could be saved embarrassment. Otherwise, her reputation could have been harmed, and Mr. Hirsch is too honorable to do such a thing. Charlotte says—”

“Charlotte White should be reminded that she who goes about as a talebearer reveals secrets.” She gave her daughter a reproving glance. “Gossip is a sin, Emma Shrum, and it is unbecoming for a young lady to participate in it. Miss Breit needs friends in Shadow Creek, not enemies.”

Emma blushed. “I’m sorry, Mother. I never meant to be unkind.”

“Dear heart,” Theodora answered gently, “I know Charlotte has set her cap for Mr. Hirsch. Everyone in town knows it. It galls her that he doesn’t seem to notice her. Charlotte is used to getting whatever she wants.”

“Her parents do spoil her a bit. Especially her father.”

Theodora chuckled at the understatement. “Just a bit.”

Emma turned to gaze at the passing countryside. After an extended silence, she said, “I’ve never told her so, but I think Charlotte would be miserable as Mr. Hirsch’s wife. They’re all wrong for each other.”

“And I think you, Emma, are very, very wise.”

Karola had begun helping her father in the bakery when she was no older than Maeve, and it was in the kitchen where she was the most confident. But no matter how accomplished the cook, a woman still needed certain ingredients in order to make a decent meal.

She stood in the center of the kitchen, hands on her hips. What was she to make for supper this first night? There was only a little flour left in the pantry and no sugar or canned goods or butter or lard. Karola had a dozen eggs, thanks to the laying hens, and she’d found potatoes and onions in the fruit cellar, along with a basket of apples. In addition, there was fresh milk in the springhouse and beef, pork, and some kind of game in the smokehouse.

Perhaps if she’d gotten an earlier start, the task of preparing supper wouldn’t seem so overwhelming to her now, but she’d spent the past three hours washing pots and dishes and scrubbing the kitchen from top to bottom.

It was at the precise moment tears had begun to well in her eyes that the door chimes sounded, announcing visitors. Maeve and Bernard, who had been coloring with crayons at the kitchen table, bolted for the front of the house. With a sigh of weariness, Karola lifted Aislinn from her high chair and followed after the other two.

As soon as she stepped into the hall, she heard a cheerful greeting.

“Hello, Miss Breit. I hope we haven’t come at a bad time.” Theodora Shrum didn’t wait for an invitation. She entered the house, her arms laden, as were the arms of her daughter, who entered right behind. “We come bearing gifts.”

The scent of fresh-baked bread filled the entry hall.

“I took a peek at Mr. Hirsch’s pantry not all that long ago,”Theodora continued, “and I knew you’d need a few days to get organized.”

Karola felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. “
Danke,
Mrs. Shrum.”

“No thanks needed. Come along, Emma. We’ll take all this straight to the kitchen.” She walked past Karola, still talking. “Ida Noonan sent one of her chocolate cakes, a real specialty in these parts, and Laura Gaffney made corned beef hash. Mrs. Thompson, the schoolteacher, sent some canned vegetables, and there’s a couple of loaves of bread from my kitchen.”

Karola fell into step behind Theodora.

“Emma’s got some of Dr. Cooper’s apple cider, and Mrs. Denys made a pastry the children are sure to love. And just in case, I brought along some butter, flour, and sugar to see you through until you can do the marketing.”

Karola glanced over her shoulder at Emma and was rewarded with a smile. Karola returned it.

“Well, my stars!” Theodora stared at the kitchen. “Haven’t you been a busy one?”

Karola stopped, not sure what the woman meant.