Cheryl Reavis (17 page)

P.S. Frederich says he means for you to come up here.

Caroline reread the last line, stopping short of frowning because Lise waited expectantly.

“Is it a good letter?” she asked.

“Yes. Uncle William says hello,” Caroline said, making a mental note to tell William that Lise hadn’t mentioned his birthday gift because she had never opened it. She had put Frederich’s fiddle and all of her gifts away until her father came home again.

“I thought so. You
smiled,”
Lise said wistfully, and Caroline felt a pang of remorse about her recent, humorless state.

“I hope Uncle William doesn’t die,” Lise went on matter-of-factly. “What would we do if he got shot and died, Aunt Caroline? What would we do if Papa got shot and died?”

“Let’s don’t borrow trouble, all right? We just have to try to take care of everything here—and you keep remembering your father and Uncle William in your prayers—”

“But I’m afraid it won’t help, Aunt Caroline. It didn’t help Mama.”

Caroline put her arms around her. “We’ll still pray, though. No matter how it comes out, we’ll still pray as hard as we can.” She leaned back to look at Lise’s face and move a tendril of hair out of her eyes. “Did Mr. Rial forget anything else?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

“No. He just left—I guess to find out about the money.”

“What money?” Caroline asked. She picked up a bucket and dipped it into the iron pot to fill it with soapy water to take to the pigs.

“Papa’s money,” Lise said, following along with her and taking hold of the rope handle to help without being asked. “Beata says she knows Papa left plenty of money for us— she just doesn’t know what you did with it—”

Caroline stopped walking, sloshing soapy water on them both. “What I did with it?”

“That’s what she said. She wants to send some of it to Mr. Gerhardt. He’s not used to rough army life. He needs to buy things to keep him in the comfort he’s accustomed to.”

“Over my dead body,” Caroline said under her breath.

“What, Aunt Caroline?”

“Nothing—go help Beata keep up with Mary Louise, all right? I’ll see you at the
Mittagessen.
“

Caroline propped open the gate to the empty hog pen and dumped the water into the trough, causing the pigs to run forth from their hiding places, squealing with anticipation. She stood back out of the way, rather proud of her self-control. She had emptied the soapy water onto the pigs instead of onto Beata’s head. Beata Graeber was worse than
all
the Seven Plagues of Egypt, she thought, but it wouldn’t help having Lise any more upset than she already was.

She kept carrying soapy water, intending to finish the task and not worry anymore about Frederich or his overly generous sister. She found Leah Steigermann waiting for her at the iron pot when she returned from her fourth trip to the hog pen.

“Caroline,” Leah called, tripping out to meet her with great attention to where she stepped. “I came to tell you Johann brought me a letter from Avery today.”

“Why?” Caroline asked bluntly, because Leah Steigermann, of all people, would know that she wouldn’t have much interest in anything Avery had to say.

Leah smiled. “Because Frederich wrote something in it for you.”

“Oh,” she said with little enthusiasm. Her pride had been sorely damaged of late, but it was still viable. It was incredible how much she didn’t want Leah to know what transpired between her and Frederich.

“He wrote to me,” Leah said, taking the letter out of her pocket and opening it, “because he writes better in German—which you wouldn’t be able to read—and he says he doesn’t trust Beata to translate for you. Very sensible, I think.” She moved the back page to the front. “Here it is— Frederich writes that the company is going to join Lee’s army in Virginia before the week is out. He thinks they will go into battle soon and he wants you to know that he will take care of William the best he can. That’s all he says. This is dated the last of August—nearly a month ago. They are long gone by now, don’t you think—are you all right?”

“Yes, I—it just surprised me, that’s all. I thought—”

She didn’t say what she had thought. Of course she knew that Frederich and William would be going into harm’s way. She just hadn’t expected the news to affect her so strongly. Her relief at no longer being ordered to come to an army camp was completely overwhelmed by her concern for William. How long did it take to turn a farm boy into a soldier?
she wondered. Surely more time than this, regardless of William’s thinking he’d “drilled enough to be a general.”

She looked around to find Leah watching her.

“You should have gone to Garysburg,” she said.

“Is there nothing about my personal business people here don’t know?” Caroline said in exasperation.

“Not much. You should have gone to Garysburg,” Leah said again. “You treat your husband very badly, Caroline.”

“I do not, and you don’t know anything about it.”

“I know you owe him everything and you give him nothing.”

“I am taking care of Lise and Mary Louise. I am taking care of his property—”

“Yes. His property. Not him. Do you think Beata doesn’t tell how things were between you and Frederich?”

“There was nothing for her to tell.”

Leah sighed. “Exactly. But you already know what I think, Caroline. I told you on your wedding day you were lucky to marry him. I would have married him gladly if you hadn’t—” She stopped, apparently because of Caroline’s incredulous look. She gave a small shrug. “My father wanted him for me. We would have done very well together, Frederich and I.”

“But you
love
Avery,” Caroline said, still incredulous and coping now with a new emotion she would have sworn was jealousy.

“Yes, of course, I love Avery—but he is a man for pleasure—not a man for marrying. Ah! How shocked you are! How is it you are so shocked, Caroline? You should understand.”

I don’t know anything about pleasure,
Caroline almost said. She could feel her face flush and she looked away.

“I’m sorry,” Leah said kindly. “It wasn’t that way with the other man then.”

“No,” Caroline said, reaching down to pick up the bucket. “It wasn’t that way.”

“Then that is another reason why you are lucky to have Frederich. I think he would be an accomplished lover—”

“Leah!”

“What?” she said, laughing.

“You shouldn’t say these things!”

“No?”

“No!”

“Don’t you want to know what I—what other people-think about your husband?”

“I know all I need to know.”

“I hear my father and Johann talk. You don’t want me to tell you what they say?”

“Certainly not—” She broke off and gave a resigned sigh. “Tell me,” she amended. She was ashamed of her ignorance in matters concerning the man she’d married, but not ashamed enough to let an opportunity like this pass her by. She hardly knew anything about Frederich Graeber—and what little she did know kept changing. She glanced at Leah, expecting her to be laughing still. She wasn’t.

“Tell me,” Caroline said again with an in-for-a-pound bravado.

“They talk about why his father sent him to America,” Leah said. And about his first wife.”

“Why would they talk about Ann? She was a good wife to—”

“No, not Ann—
his first
wife. His German wife. Are you done carrying the bucket?” Leah asked. “I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

“Never mind the bucket—what German wife?”

“Well, I
think
she was his wife. It was all very tragic. It happened when he was a soldier in Germany. Frederich
wanted to marry the daughter of a very prominent man, but her family had already arranged a marriage to someone else, someone with a lot of money—a banker, I think. Anyway, Frederich deserted from his company and ran off with her. They were caught, of course, and his father had to pay a fortune to get him out of the trouble it caused—the girl’s reputation was ruined. Then Frederich’s father sent him to America to keep him from bringing any more scandal down on the family—but Frederich stole her from her parents’ house and took her with him.”

“But what happened to her? I don’t remember that Frederich had a wife when he came here.”

“She caught the fever and died on the voyage over. She had to be buried at sea. I think she is the reason Frederich wouldn’t take another German wife. He would marry because it was required of him, but he didn’t want to be reminded of her. He told Father once that he would never go home to Germany again. The sea was too terrible a place to him, because it was
her
grave. Father says she is the reason Frederich wanted your baby to have a place beside Ann—so that the baby wouldn’t have to lie all alone—Caroline, I’m sorry. It makes you sad still. I shouldn’t talk about the little one.”

Caroline didn’t reply. She was thinking of the day Frederich had taken her against her will to see the baby’s grave. She was thinking of how much comfort it had given her to know that the baby rested beside Ann. She was thinking of the accusation she had made in the barn. She had been angered by Frederich’s presuming to understand her grief, and now she had discovered that, in all probability, he had.

And she was thinking of Ann. Poor Ann, who hadn’t known there was no way she could matter to him.

“I was right then,” she said, more to herself than to Leah.

“About what?”

Caroline looked at her for a moment, as she decided whether or not to answer. “About Frederich—and Ann. He didn’t care what happened to her. All he wanted from her was a male heir—”

“No, Caroline—”

“She
died
trying to give him his son when she wasn’t supposed to have any more children—what?” she said, because of Leah’s troubled look.

“I think you misjudge him, Caroline.”

“I was there, Leah.”

“Don’t you care for Frederich at all?”

“I think he is very kind to his children—and very hard on his wives.”

“But he is kind to you.”

“To me? No, Leah. He isn’t kind to me.”

“But of course he is, Caroline. How can you say that? He would never hurt you—the way Avery did—and I’ve told you. You are alive because of him.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Caroline sighed again. “I suppose he
is
kind—sometimes—”

“He is kind enough to write and try to keep you from worrying so about William.”

“Yes,” Caroline agreed.
“Sometimes
he is kind—but then he isn’t. I never know what to expect from him. It’s as if he suddenly remembers who I am and how I came to be here—and he can’t abide it.”

“I don’t think that is what he is remembering,” Leah said.

“What then?” Caroline asked.

Leah stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “I think he remembers what happened with
her.
I think maybe he’s afraid of you.”

“Leah, why would Frederich be afraid of
me?
“

“Because once he let himself care for a woman so much that it cost him everything. I think he is afraid to let anyone else have that kind power over him again. You are strong, Caroline. You would never just settle for whatever he thinks he wants to give.”

Caroline gave a short laugh. “Strong? You are the one person who knows better than that.”

“Oh, yes. I have seen you at your worst. But you don’t stay at your worst, do you? Look at you now—after all the bad things that happened to you, after nearly dying. You keep Frederich
and
Avery’s farms going. Everyone is talking about it—that prissy Holt woman with her town airs, knowing what to do. Everybody is hiding their cabbages and potatoes and hams in more than one place—because Frederich’s wife is doing so. Everyone is letting the pigs run in the woods—harder for us to catch, yes, but much harder for the army, too, if they want to take them—because Frederich’s wife is doing so. Everyone is keeping the ten percent of grain and corn set by and ready to give the army when it comes, so they don’t go looking for more—because you do it. Father and Johann both tell people it is better that the army takes the ten, like Caroline says, than the fifty. You see?”

“I see that people are worrying that I might be right, not expecting that I am.”

Leah smiled. “How is it you understand other people so well and not your husband?”

“No one can understand Frederich Graeber, Leah. He keeps changing the rules—stay and eat with us, all right? Maybe you can put our Beata into a better mood.”

“I will happily stay to eat,” Leah said. “But, my dear Caroline, I cannot do miracles.”

Caroline smiled. “And will you write to Avery and set his poor neglected heart at ease?”

“No,” Leah said, returning the smile. “I am engaged now, you see.”

“Engaged! Leah, when? To whom?”

“Oh, two weeks now,” she said airily. “Like Avery, he is a dashing soldier. I have known him a long while. He wrote to my father, and my father gives his blessing if I want it.”

“And
do
you want it?”

“Of course—it’s time I was married. You took the best man. I must take the only suitable one left. Tell me, shall I make a good schoolmaster’s wife?”

Oct 20

Dear Caroline,

I don’t have to worry no more about what hell is like, for I have seen it with my own two eyes on that sunk down road to Sharpsburg. I am proud to say no body can give me the White feather. All the officers in this regement got killed. Frederich is the one that took us through. One of the generals didn’t like us letting a sarjent and a German tell us which way to go, but Frederich got us dug in where we could shoot Yankees and do some good. Me an Avery both would be dead if it werent for him. I for one am glad he is in the family and in this company. You know I found out I could run shoot and eat all at the same time?

Respectfully, your brother Pvt. William T. Holt

P.S. Avery wants to know if its true Leeah S. is marrying Mr. Gerheart. I told him if he wanted to know so bad he could ask Mr. Gerheart, for he is right here. But he says ask you. Can you send me some drawers? Mine is all full of holes. We are all pretty Holy if you want to know the truth.

W
illiam’s effort did nothing to alleviate the anxiety Caroline
had endured since the word came of the September battle. But she set about answering him immediately, not because she wanted to announce Leah’s impending marriage, but because Johann was going to Virginia to try to find out about the men who had been wounded at Sharpsburg, and sending a letter with him was the best opportunity she had for William to get his answers. She spared no detail about the preparations for the nuptials—the gathering of women who met as often as they could to sew the wedding dress and the trousseaux—usually in Beata’s kitchen because the Graeber farm was centrally located and more sewers could attend. She even advised William who would stand at Leah’s side and hold the bouquet when the time came for exchanging the vows. She did
not
tell him that Caroline Holt as matron of honor in Kader Gerhardt’s wedding had to be one of life’s most ironically cruel jokes.

But, there was no way she could tactfully get out of it, unless she feigned illness on the big day—whenever that might be. She had tried pointing out the obvious—that Leah couldn’t possibly want The Scarlet Woman of the County standing by her at the altar. Leah was not discouraged, however. Caroline Holt was her friend, scarlet or not.

In time, Caroline began to appreciate the situation. Somewhat. It was bound to annoy Kader far more than it upset her, and in lieu of wearing a red dress to his funeral, she decided that this must be the next best thing. She rather relished the idea of being conspicuously on hand for the “or forever hold your peace” part of the ceremony. She knew that she should be ashamed of the pleasure her lack of charity gave her, but there it was, and it was no use pretending otherwise. If her presence at Kader’s wedding caused him undue anxiety, so be it. Turnabout was fair play; he had certainly been a sore point at hers. She would never forgive him for his indifference to his unborn child, just as she would never tell Leah or her family that he had been the father of her baby. Her doing so would serve no purpose but
to cause the Steigermanns embarrassment and pain. She owed them too much to do such a thing, but that part, Kader didn’t have to know.

She hardly remembered the month of November, there was so much work to be done. The severely cold weather had lessened the army’s foraging, but it was nearly all Caroline could do to keep enough wood cut. Sawing oak logs with a two-handled saw and Beata on the other end was inconceivable torture. Beata absolutely refused to learn that one never pushed, one always pulled, and it was only when Caroline threatened to hoard the wood and burn it in the fireplace upstairs for herself and the children
only
that Beata finally began to get the gist of the procedure.

Occasionally.

By the latter part of December, Caroline had been driven to stealing Avery’s already-cut wood, taking the wagon to the Holt farm every day or so for another load, rather than trying to maintain a woodpile with no help save Beata’s.

The sky was heavily overcast and the afternoon freezing cold when she returned home from yet another forage. The coldness had the damp and wet kind of feeling to it that preceded a snow. Had there been any rings around the moon last night? She didn’t know. She had been too exhausted to look.

She could hear laughter from the house as she drove the wagon into the yard—Leah’s sewing circle hard at work. It still surprised her that Beata allowed the women to meet in her kitchen. Leah had worked a miracle after all. Her announced engagement to Kader Gerhardt had certainly eliminated Beata’s nagging for money to send him for his “comfort.”

She unhitched the horses quickly—with a skill she had never aspired to possess—and put them into the barn, leaving them with more feed than she should have as a token of her undying gratitude for another successful trip. Frederich had told her once that old Koenig had no idea that she
couldn’t keep him from doing whatever he wanted to do, and she earnestly hoped to maintain the deception.

She hurried across the barnyard and began unloading the wood, stacking it in the woodbox by the back door. At one point, she thought she heard whispering from inside the house, and she dismissed it as a sign of how little progress she’d made. She was a fallen women to be talked about behind her back, and clearly she would remain so. The last armload of wood she carried into the kitchen, fumbling with the door until Lise came to open it. She glanced at her niece, then back again. Lise was positively beaming.

“Hurry, Aunt Caroline!” she said, shooing her along with her hands but not touching her so as not to interfere with the load of wood.

“Aunt Caroline! Aunt Caroline!” Mary Louise cried behind her. “Guess—”

But Lise snatched her up midsentence and walked quickly toward the pantry.

The kitchen was warm and full of women in the process of sewing as Caroline expected—except that no one seemed to be working at the moment and Johann Rial stood in their midst.

“Are you sewing trousseau now, Johann?” she asked, walking in his direction because he was standing on the hearthstones in the approximate location where she needed to put the wood. Leah and Mrs. Steigermann stood shoulder to shoulder on either side of him.

“Oh, yes!” he said brightly. “No—I mean no, Caroline.”

Caroline looked at him—at all three of them—noting that they all wore the same expression. But she made no comment, stepping closer with the wood. Neither of them moved aside.

“I need to set the wood down, please,” she said finally. Surely Johann wouldn’t be smiling like this if he’d brought bad news.

“Shall we let Caroline do that?” Johann asked Leah and Mrs. Steigermann. “Shall we let her put down the wood?”

They grinned at one another and immediately parted, giving Caroline full view of the rocking chair behind them. Frederich sat in it, a thin and exhausted, chilled-to-the-bone Frederich.

The wood spilled out of her arms. “Oh—oh!” she heard herself saying. She rushed forward, in spite of the onlookers, kneeling by the chair, both her hands gripping his arm. “Frederich—what are you doing here? It’s not William, is it-?”

“Your brother is well, Caroline. Both your brothers are well. They are with the regiment in the winter quarters in Virginia.”

“When did you get here? How? Johann said there were no furloughs,” she said, her eyes searching his.

“We cleaned him up for you, Caroline,” Leah said behind her. “You should have seen him when he got here. You should have
smelled
him.”

Frederich gave a tired half smile. “You are glad to see me, Caroline?”

“Glad?” she repeated as if she’d never heard the word before, and she suddenly remembered herself. She stood up immediately. “Look who’s here!” she said to Lise, who had returned with Mary Louise from the pantry.

“We surprised you!” Lise cried. “Mary Louise was going to tell
everything!”

“We surprised you!” Mary Louise said, ignoring the accusation and immediately climbing onto Frederich’s lap.

“Yes,” Caroline said, rattled still. “You surprised me." She began to pick up the spilled wood and stack it on the hearth, feeling Frederich’s eyes on her every move and dropping several logs again in her haste. “I have to see to the horses,” she said abruptly, because the room was too small suddenly and she had the overwhelming urge to cry. Frederich was here—when she
never
would have expected it. She
hadn’t been given any time at all to see how she might feel about the possibility. He was just
here
and she didn’t know what to say or do, not with everyone watching.

She managed a smile of sorts as she escaped to the outside, and she stood on the porch for a moment trying to decide in which direction she wanted to flee.

“The horses are that way,” Frederich said behind her. “Or have you moved them, too?”

She immediately turned on him, fists clenched. “Don’t!" she said. “I don’t want to hear it!”

“Hear what? I have only asked a question.
One
question, Caroline. Have you moved the horses?”

“No,” she said, her chin still up.

“So do we go see about them or not?”

“Not,” she answered, stepping off the porch. To her dismay, he came right along with her. “The horses are fine,” she added, because he looked so tired.

But she didn’t stop walking.

“Don’t you have something to do?” she said pointedly over her shoulder, because he continued to follow.

“I’m doing it,” he advised her.

“You look terrible,” she said, hoping he would take the hint and go sit by the fire again.

“So do you,” he countered.

She stopped walking, trying to find some indignation to fling at him. And she might have—if he hadn’t been so right. She did look terrible. She needed clean clothes and a bath and her hair washed. She needed a good night’s sleep. She needed—

She looked up at him. “We heard about the battle at Fredericksburg.”

“Not too bad for the regiment this time,” he said. “Mostly we were held in reserve and never needed.”

“I see,” she said, fully aware that she didn’t see at all.

“You didn’t answer my question. Are you glad to see me?”

She made herself look at him. It wasn’t gladness she was feeling. Gladness wasn’t weak knees and wanting to cry at the mere sight of him. “No,” she answered.

“I’m thinking that I am going to kiss you anyway,” he said.

“Kiss—Frederich, everybody is watching—at the windows—you can’t—”

He chuckled softly. “I didn’t say
now,
Caroline.”

“What you
said
was for me to stay away from you.”

“I was feeling sorry for myself that day. I no longer have the time for such things.”

“Indeed,” she said, still not sure whether to be angry or flattered, or to run or stay.

“Indeed,” he assured her. “Come. Show me what you’ve done to my farm—come,” he coaxed, because she made no attempt to do as he asked.

They walked together over the barnyard. Whether he approved or disapproved of her numerous burial pits for cabbages and turnips and potatoes, she couldn’t tell. He had questions, of course.

“They are trenched?” and “How much straw?”

“How did you get the cornstalks plowed under?” he asked when he saw the north field.

“John Steigermann and Aaron Goodman’s boy—”

“Jacob—the one who lost his leg? He can manage a plow, then?”

“Yes. He walks with the wooden peg they gave him, and he falls a lot—but he won’t put up with anybody trying to help him. He and Mr. Steigermann went around to all the farms to get the plowing done. I let them use the Belgians—because they’re a good team,” she said. “Easier to manage.”

She waited for his disapproval, but he merely nodded.

“I saw Jacob Goodman as I came in—talked to him. Old Aaron tells the boy all the time that God has punished him
for running off to the army with his brothers and leaving his father all alone.”

“Yes,” she said, because he was looking at her as if he expected her to do so.

“He would be happier out of his father’s house. His sister cries over him all the time—it makes him ashamed that he is not a man anymore. What do you think about him staying at the Holt place—keeping it up, paying a rent with part of whatever he can grow until Avery gets back?”

“What do I think?” she asked incredulously.

Frederich sighed. “Yes, Caroline. You are the only other person here.”

“Very well. I think Avery would have a fit if you let Jacob Goodman live in his house.”

“I had in mind
that you
would let him live there.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me not to realize who gets to face the wrath of Avery Holt here.”

She glanced at Frederich. He was smiling.

“I like you when you’re like this,” he said, walking off in another direction.

This time,
she
followed. “What do you mean ‘like this’?" she asked, ready to be insulted.

“Sharp-tongued,” he said over his shoulder. “Sort of…like Beata,” he added.

“I am
not
like Beata!” she said, and he laughed out loud.

“Which well did you have the trouble with?” he asked.

“How did you know about the well? Never mind, I know. Beata told you.”

“Beata,” he agreed. “And half the county. John Steigermann says you put on William’s old clothes and he lowered you down on a rope.”

“There was no other way—I couldn’t very well dangle
him
on the rope.”

“Were you afraid?”

“Of course, I was afraid. I’m not a complete idiot.”

“John says you were very brave. But Beata says you are going to hell for wearing men’s britches.” He paused, apparently to hear her sharp tongue again. She didn’t oblige him.

“You got the well cleaned out?” he asked.

“Yes, for now.”

“Good. I hate going down in wells. It’s good I have somebody to send in my place when it needs doing again.”

He was teasing her, blatantly, and she simply didn’t understand.

“Did you see the stars?” he asked.

“Stars?”

“When you went down in the well. If you look up at the sky, even if it’s daylight, you can see the stars.”