Robin Lee Hatcher (8 page)

“You’ve made that stove look like new again. I’ve seen the grime that was cooked on it. You must’ve been scrubbing for hours.” She looked at Karola. “I sure hope that man appreciates what you’ve done here in one short day.” She stepped to the counter and set down the tray laden with food.

Thinking of all there was yet to do, Karola shook her head. “I have not done so much.”

“Pish posh! Of course you have. It’s no easy thing, keeping a home and caring for children. Believe me, Miss Breit, I know.”

Embarrassed by the compliment, Karola sought to change the subject. “May I get you something cool to drink, Mrs. Shrum. There is—”

“No, thank you, dear. Emma and I must head straight back to town. Mr. Shrum is practicing his sermon for tomorrow, and he always works up a tremendous appetite by the time he finishes. He’ll be wanting his own supper soon enough.”

“But you have come so far only to—”

“It was our pleasure. Isn’t that right, Emma?”

“Yes,” her daughter answered dutifully as she set her tray on the counter beside the other one.

“I do not know how to thank you properly.” Karola looked from Theodora to Emma and back again. “I haven’t enough words in English.”

Theodora smiled. “You speak wonderfully, Miss Breit. And all the thanks I need is for you not to be a stranger whenever you’re in town. You come to see me at the parsonage, and we’ll have us a nice visit over a cup of tea.”

Karola nodded. “I will not be a stranger, Mrs. Shrum.”

“Then I expect us to become good friends, you and I.” She smiled. “Perhaps I’ll even convince you to attend the Methodist church one of these days.”

Karola’s eyes widened, and both Theodora and Emma laughed. The merry sound lingered in the house long after they left.

Chapter Eleven

31 May 1908
in care of Jakob Hirsch
Shadow Creek, Idaho

Dear Father and Mother,

It is still early on this Sunday morning, and the sun has
yet to rise. There is wood burning in the fireplace, taking
the chill from the room. I sit at a small table to write to
you by lamplight.

My new home is a two-room cabin on a hillside, a not-too-
distant walk from Jakob’s house. It is cozy, my cabin,
and I am comfortable in it. I do hope I can soon add some
touches of my own, perhaps new curtains for the windows
and a rag rug for the floor, but those will have to wait.

Yesterday was my first day to work for Jakob. He left
early to attend to his farming duties and did not return
until late in the day. I was somewhat overwhelmed by all
that needs to be done in this motherless home, but by the
time I returned to my cabin, I felt a sense of accomplishment.
Is that prideful? I hope not. I do not mean for it to
be. It is simply that I have never managed a home, and it
is good to know that I did not fail.

Little Aislinn, who celebrated her first birthday only a
week ago, seems to have taken a great liking to me.

Bernard, who is almost five, is mischievous and quite
the charmer. For now he follows mostly in his older sister’s
footsteps, but it will not be long before he branches
out on his own. I think he and I will get on well once we
become better acquainted.

It is Maeve who concerns me. She is lonely and confused
and much too sad for a child of six years. She
misses her mother, and who can blame her? I am praying
for wisdom so that in the months I am here I will be of
some help to her.

I thought of you often yesterday, Mother, as I tried to
bring some order to this big house. I am thankful to God
for the parents he gave me. I am thankful for the many
things you taught me, and I hope you would be proud of
me, could you see my efforts.

I have yet to cook a real meal. Yesterday, one of the
women from town brought food to us. A good thing, for I
had despaired of finding the necessary ingredients in
Jakob’s bare pantry. I shudder to think what he has been
feeding the children in the months he has been without a
housekeeper. To be honest, I do not think he noticed what
he ate when he came in from the fields. Weariness was
etched deeply into his face. (I do not think you would recognize
Jakob. He is much changed from the boy you knew.
He has even grown a beard.)

It is clear to me how very much he loves this way of
life he has chosen. Or do you suppose it is the way of life
that has chosen him?

Does that sound like the dreamy girl who left Steiger-hausen,
Mother? The one you said always had her head
in the clouds? It is not. My feet are firmly on the ground
at last. I am remembering all you taught me through the
years. I think you would be surprised how much remains.
You thought I never listened, but I did.

The words have begun to swim on the page. I am tired
and find I cannot keep my eyes open any longer. Today is
Sunday, and I will go with Jakob and his children to
church in Shadow Creek.

Your loving daughter,
Karola Breit

Chapter Twelve

O
ver her father’s objections, Charlotte White had begun attending services at the Lutheran church in the fall of the previous year. It wasn’t for theological denominational reasons, of course, that Charlotte chose to forsake her family’s Methodist roots. No, the reasons were quite secular—and personal—in nature.

His name was Jakob Hirsch.

Charlotte was delighted with this beautiful Sunday morning. Warm and sunny, not even a wisp of clouds in the sky, the weather was perfect for standing outside the church, pretending to visit with other parishioners while she awaited Jakob’s arrival. She balanced her pink parasol on her right shoulder, making certain the sun was at her back. The light would create a pretty glow through the delicate fabric.

Pink was definitely her color. Everyone said so.

She wished Jakob would hurry. She did so want him to see her like this, framed by the sunlight. Her rose-colored dress was new, as were her gloves and straw hat, and she had taken special pains with her hair.

Now that his ridiculous plans to marry that German woman had proven fruitless, Jakob would
have
to notice her. He still needed a wife. Everyone knew it. And Charlotte was more determined than ever that she would be the next Mrs. Hirsch. Jakob was handsome and he owned the finest home in the valley. One day it would be
her
home.

“Good morning, Miss White.”

Distracted, she glanced in the direction of the familiar male voice. “Oh, hello, Mr. Bishop.” She hoped he would take the hint and go away.

She knew, of course, that Lance Bishop was sweet on her, and it wasn’t that she didn’t normally enjoy his attention. In truth, she rather liked flirting with him. It was fun to see if he became flustered by their exchanges. But she didn’t feel like playing that particular game this morning. She had bigger fish to fry.

Without another word, she turned her gaze toward the bend in the road that led into town, looking for that first glimpse of the Hirsch carriage.

“How is your mother today?” Lance was either oblivious to her intentional rudeness or ignoring it. “Better, I hope.”

“She’s about the same.” Her mother was
always
about the same, always suffering from one ailment or another, and it became rather tiresome saying so.

“I’m sorry to hear that. And how’s your father?”

Charlotte suppressed a groan, still refusing to look at him. “He’s well.”
Why don’t you go over to the Methodist church and
see for yourself?

Lance cleared his throat. “Please give them my regards.”

“I will.”

She sensed more than heard his sigh of defeat.

But he tried one more time. “Well, I guess I’ll go in. Would you like me to escort you to your pew?”

“No, thank you. I think I’ll linger outside a little longer. It’s such a pleasant morning. But you go on.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the young farmer moved toward the church doors, as did everyone else who had been standing outside, visiting with their friends and neighbors.

Charlotte began to despair. Time was running out. She really couldn’t wait much longer. Then, as she was about to turn, she caught sight of the Hirsch carriage, just coming into view. She felt a little rush of pleasure, glad that she was standing alone, glad she would be the only person Jakob saw as he drew the horses to a halt.

Her pleasure was short-lived, for though she waited, he never glanced her way. He stepped down from the carriage, then immediately took his younger girl in his arms before helping Karola Breit to the ground. He spoke a soft but firm word of caution to his other two children as they disembarked.

Look at me, Jakob Hirsch. Look at me. I’m here, waiting
for you.

With hurried steps, Karola led the way up the walk toward the church entrance, clutching a Bible close to her body with her left arm. When her gaze met with Charlotte’s, Karola smiled in shy recognition. Charlotte nodded before looking again at Jakob, but he was bending forward, speaking to his son, and the family passed Charlotte without Jakob even seeming to know she was there.

She would have liked nothing better than to hit him over the head with her pretty pink parasol.

Only an idiot wouldn’t have known Charlotte’s reasons for standing outside the church the way she did.

Lance Bishop was no idiot.

But how did a fella make a pretty girl like Charlotte notice him when she was all moony-eyed over somebody else, especially when the man was Jakob Hirsch?

Lance’s one consolation had been knowing Jakob meant to marry Karola Breit when she arrived from Germany. Only now Jakob wasn’t going to marry Karola. What would happen if Jakob took a shine to Charlotte after all and decided to ask her to marry him? Lance would lose a friend, mentor, and employer,
and
the girl he loved, that’s what. He’d have to sell his land and leave. He wouldn’t be able to stay in the valley if Jakob and Charlotte married.

He slumped in the pew as Pastor Joki began to speak, too miserable to listen.

He remembered the first time he’d seen Charlotte White. A newcomer to the valley, he’d brought a plow horse to the blacksmith to be shod, and there she’d been, talking to her father. She was the prettiest creature he’d ever laid eyes on. He’d believed right then and there that she was the girl God wanted him to have for his wife, just as soon as she was old enough to wed and he had a decent house built. Well, at eighteen she was old enough, and Lance now had a house on his forty-acre farm.

But a lot of good that did him when she wouldn’t give him the time of day. He didn’t want to consider that he might have heard wrong, that maybe Charlotte was the wife
he
wanted rather than the one God wanted for him.

Half a beat behind the rest of the congregation, Lance rose and reached for the hymnal as Dorotea Joki pounded out the strains of “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.”

Jakob sensed the curious gazes from all around the sanctuary. He was tempted to stand up and tell everyone to mind their own business and leave him to his. He didn’t, of course.

Besides, could he blame folks for their curiosity? Jakob had kept his marriage plans to himself until shortly before Karola arrived, and just as the townsfolk were getting used to that idea, the wedding was called off. Then, to complicate things, his intended bride became his housekeeper. If he were in their shoes, he guessed he’d be curious too.

He glanced to his left. Karola, seated on the other side of his three children, was listening intently to Pastor Joki. Personally, Jakob had never found Rick’s sermons to be very inspiring, but Karola seemed to think otherwise.

And, come to think of it, she looked mighty pretty with that rapt expression on her face, her blue eyes sparkling with interest, a pale pink glow on her cheeks.

He frowned, suddenly suspecting that most of those curious gazes he’d sensed behind him belonged to men. That notion didn’t sit well with him. Why would it? The last thing he needed was for Karola to decide to marry somebody else and leave him in the lurch.

It seemed to Karola that the pastor’s sermon had been prepared especially for her. Every word shot straight to her heart. As she listened, she felt exhilarated and encouraged, challenged and comforted, and she was more determined than ever to do what God had brought her to this place to do. She would draw closer to him. She would love and nurture Jakob’s motherless children. Silently she renewed her promise that she would keep her eyes on Christ and not be swayed by the things of this world. She would be heavenly minded in all her ways.

When the service ended, she felt ready for anything.

Outside, members of the congregation pressed in to meet Karola. Her head was quickly spinning with names and faces, and she knew she would never remember them all when next she came to town. And while her English was excellent, there were some people whom she simply could not understand, no matter how hard she concentrated on their words.

But Karola
did
understand Charlotte White. Not her words, for she did not speak to Karola. No, it was Charlotte’s attentiveness to Jakob that spoke volumes. The way she smiled up at him, her glance both hopeful and coquettish. The way she briefly rested her gloved fingers on his forearm, not long enough to be improper but long enough to subtly declare her intent.

Oddly upset by the gesture, Karola pretended interest in what someone—she hadn’t a clue the woman’s name—was saying to her.

“Saints be praised!” Tulley Gaffney’s familiar voice boomed out. “You’re still here then.”

Karola turned to see the Irishman crossing the street, coming from the hotel.

The jovial man smiled broadly and winked at her, then looked at Jakob who was standing with Charlotte a short distance to Karola’s right. “Sure, and you haven’t forgotten you’re to eat with us, Jakob. You and Miss Breit and the children.”

“Well, I … we—,” Jakob began.

“I told me daughter-in-law that you’d not forgot and ’twas only that your Lutheran service went longer than the mass.” He bobbed his head at Charlotte. “You’ll be excusin’ us, Miss White, but Laura says I must bring the entire Hirsch family immediately before the food grows cold.” He turned toward Karola and offered her his arm. “Come along, Miss Breit. You, too, children. Your cousin Laura’s fixed a special treat for you, and ’twould not be good to keep her waitin’.”

Karola took his proffered arm, deciding she liked Tulley Gaffney a little more every time they met.

They walked arm-in-arm toward the hotel, Maeve and Bernard running ahead of them, Jakob with Aislinn in his arms bringing up the rear.

“And how are you findin’ things at Jakob’s farm?” Tulley asked in a conspiratorial voice. Then he laughed. “No, don’t be tellin’ me. I can but imagine. The man knows his way around the land and his animals. There’s no denyin’ it. But he’s a poor housekeeper and a worse cook. I’ve seen and tasted for meself. ’Tis a wonder they’ve not all starved to death before you came to their rescue, Miss Breit. A real wonder.”

Karola thought of the bare pantry and the piles of laundry in he basement. “Mrs. Shrum brought us a great deal of food yesterday. The children loved Laura’s hash.”

“Aye, they would that. ’Tis a favorite.”

“Then I must ask for her recipe.”

“Glad she’ll be to give it to you, too.”

They arrived at the front entrance of the hotel moments after the children had disappeared through the doorway.

Tulley motioned for Karola to enter before him. “Laura’s in the kitchen. The wee ones will already be with her, if I know them at all, lookin’ for sweets. I’ll be waitin’ here for Jakob.”

Karola glanced over her shoulder to discover Jakob had stopped on the opposite side of Main Street and was engaged once again in conversation with Charlotte White.

It surprised Karola how thoroughly she could dislike someone she barely knew. Rather than ponder the cause, she turned and entered the hotel.

In the restaurant’s large kitchen, Karola found Laura handing a stack of plates to Maeve. The woman’s cheeks were flushed from the heat of the stove, and stray wisps of hair clung to the back of her damp neck.

“Guten Tag,”
Karola said to announce herself.

Laura glanced toward the door and offered Karola a tired smile. Then to Maeve, she said, “You and your brother set the table now. That’s a dear.”

“May I be of help?” Karola asked.

“
I’m
helping Cousin Laura.”

“Me, too,” Bernard said.

“I was about to carry the food to the table. Perhaps—” Laura stopped abruptly as the color drained from her face.

“Laura?” Karola hurried toward her, reaching to take hold of her elbow. “What is it?”

“I … oh, my.” She swayed from side to side, looking as pale as a sheet.

Tightening her grasp on Laura’s arm, Karola steered her toward a nearby chair. “Sit down.”

Laura obeyed the gentle command.

Maeve came to stare at her. “What’s wrong?”

Ignoring the girl’s question, Karola slid her hand from Laura’s arm to her shoulder. “Lean forward. Breathe deeply. Not too fast. That is better.”

Laura groaned, the sound nearly inaudible. Then her eyes rolled back in their sockets an instant before her lids closed. She pitched forward.

Karola caught her before she could fall off the chair. “Maeve! Run get your father. Quick!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Karola saw Maeve thrust the plates into her brother’s arms before she raced away. One of the plates slid to the floor and shattered.

Moments later, Jakob and Tulley rushed in from the dining room, and at the same time, Ian Gaffney entered through the back door. All three men spoke at the same time.

“What happened?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Laura!”

Ian took his wife into his arms and eased her to the floor while Karola went to moisten a cloth in the sink. When she returned, she knelt beside Laura and offered the cool cloth to Ian.

He leaned over Laura and spoke softly as he placed the cloth on her forehead. “Come ’round, love. Hear me? Open your eyes, me darlin’ girl.”

Laura’s eyelids fluttered, and she moaned.