Cheryl Reavis (2 page)

Why am I arguing with Avery about this?
she thought.

It was only out of
her
habit that she sought to defy him. She had no choice about whether a marriage to Frederich Graeber took place, and neither did Avery. It was too late for a deception, even if she’d wanted one, too late for anything but the relentless unraveling of the truth. She was nearly four months pregnant, and no matter how badly she wanted it the secret could not be kept much longer.

“—he don’t think much of Kader Gerhardt,” William was saying.

“What?” she said, startled by the German schoolmaster’s name. Kader Gerhardt was the one man here she had truly respected. He was refined and educated, and she had thought him to be honorable as well. She had earnestly believed that he was somehow different from the rest of the men here. And she had loved him. She had even dared to think that her feelings might be returned, and she had never once perceived what he was really about—when she of all
people should have. How could she have Avery for a brother and not have known?

My fault,
she thought again.
Mine.

There was something in her, something she had said or done that had made him think she wanted—

“—the nieces,” William said for the second time over his shoulder. And he was still looking for something to eat. He made do with a cold biscuit he found in a pan on the kitchen table. “Maybe Frederich wants you so you can teach them. You got enough schooling to do it as good as Kader Gerhardt. Frederich don’t think much of Kader. I heard him tell John Steigermann Kader Gerhardt wasn’t fit to teach German children.”

“William, you haven’t
heard
a damn thing,” Avery said. “Since when can you talk German?”

“I can’t talk it—but I know what I hear sometimes. You
got
to if you’re going to live around here, Avery. You should know that.”

“You watch that mouth, boy,” Avery said, choosing to take offense.

“None of this matters!” Caroline suddenly cried. This inane discussion had gone on long enough. There was nothing to be done now except to stop the marriage. “I won’t marry Frederich Graeber, and you can tell him, Avery, or I will.”

“It’s
done,
Caroline! Weren’t you listening? There’s no backing out now!”

She stepped away from the churn and moved to the pegs by the back door, taking down her wool shawl and flinging it over her shoulders.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“You know where I’m going, Avery!”

“Do you think you can just trot yourself over to the Graebers and tell Frederich the wedding is off?” he said incredulously.

“Yes.”

“Well, the hell you are. What reason are you going to give him? You’re not stupid enough to think you can find somebody with more money and more land than he’s got, I hope? I don’t see anybody else standing in line for the privilege of marrying you, Caroline!”

She sidestepped him, but he blocked the doorway, grabbing her when she tried to get through. His fingers dug into her shoulders; his eyes held hers. She knew the exact moment he realized that there had to be some reason for her determination. Given his own history, his mind did not have to make a great leap to decide what that reason might be.

“What have you been doing?” he said, giving her a shake. “Who have you been sneaking around with?” He roughly turned her around and put his hands on her belly. “By God, you’re already carrying, aren’t you? Aren’t you! Whose is it!”

“What?” she said, because everything was moving too fast and she was terribly afraid now.

He slapped her hard.

“You’re not paying attention, little sister. It’s not
what. It’s who.
Whose is it!”

“Avery, don’t!” William cried, bouncing from one foot to the other, but not daring to intervene. “Avery!”

“You stay out of this, William!”

“Don’t, Avery—what are you hurting her for?”

“Did you hear that, Caroline?” Avery said, grabbing her by the arm and jerking her around to face him. When she tried to get away, her shawl came off in his hand. He slung it aside and grabbed her arm again, squeezing hard. “William wants to know what I’m hurting you for? Tell him!”

“Avery, please!” she cried, because he
was
hurting her.

“Avery, please? Who else have you been saying
please
to?”

“I won’t tell you,” she said, forcing herself to stay on her feet, trying not to cry. She had thought herself prepared for the day Avery would know about her condition, but she
wasn’t prepared for the look in his eyes now or for his bellow of rage.

He hit her with his fist, and he would have hit her again if William hadn’t grabbed his arm. William tried vainly to hang on, but Avery yanked free of his grasp. He shoved her hard, and she fell backward. She tried to roll away from him, but Avery came after her in spite of all William could do. She could hear someone gasping, and she realized that the sound must be coming from her. She stayed in a tight ball on the floor, covering her head with her hands, trying to ward off the blows, knowing Avery wouldn’t stop.

But he was jerked away from her suddenly, his feet coming up off the floor.

“Mein Gott!
You kill the girl!” someone cried.

William knelt beside her, weeping loudly. “Caroline. Caroline!”

Don’t cry, William.

She wanted to say it, but no words came. He kept trying to make her sit up, as if he thought that her being upright would somehow negate everything that had gone on before. She tried hard to do what he wanted—he was crying so—but she sagged against him, her fingers digging into his shirt to keep herself from falling. Her hands shook. Her whole body shook.

Another pair of hands reached for her, and she cowered away from them, expecting to be hit again.

“Nein, Fraulein,”
John Steigermann said gently, wrapping her shawl around her.
“Kommen Sie—
come with me.
Es ist Zeit.”

It’s time?
she thought, recognizing the German phrase.
For what, John Steigermann?

“Avery…” she whispered, trying to see where he’d gone.

“You don’t worry about your brother. He don’t bother you now. Come.” He was a big man and he lifted her easily in spite of her protest, carrying her across the kitchen toward the back door.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she heard Avery say.

“She goes to my house, Avery Holt,” John Steigermann said. “Leah and Frau Steigermann will take care of her.
You
keep yourself and your bad temper here until I send for you.”

“This is none of your damn business!”

“I am a Christian man, Avery Holt. It is my business.”

They were outside in the cold wind, and she hid her face against John Steigermann’s coat, the movement causing her to cry out in pain. He lifted her carefully into the buggy. She closed her eyes tightly as the horse lunged forward, and she let herself be held fast in one of John Steigermann’s big arms.

S
he was given a hot broth to drink and put to bed in a small upstairs room in the Steigermann house. The bed had been warmed, but she still trembled, and she couldn’t stop crying. She had had to have help to undress. Thankfully, it was provided by John Steigermann’s quiet wife rather than his daughter, Leah. She couldn’t bear the look she saw in Leah’s eyes, the profound relief that it was Caroline Holt who had been caught and not Leah Steigermann. Caroline wanted only to be left alone—or to die—but she knew from the whispering that went on around her that neither was likely. Arrangements concerning her were still being made without her knowledge or consent. She had no doubt that John Steigermann was a good man. He had saved her from Avery—but now what was he to do with her?

She slept finally, and she awoke to find that she had completely lost track of time. A cedar wood fire burned low on the hearth. It was daylight, and she seemed to remember being offered things to eat and drink a number of times. The sun had been shining then, too. Was it still the same day? She didn’t know.

She made it to the chamber pot and back with difficulty because the nightgown Leah had provided for her was much too long and because every muscle in her body hurt. She climbed painfully back into the narrow bed and closed her
eyes. She was far too miserable to take stock of her surroundings, and yet she was surprised to note that she was actually hungry. Even so, she feigned sleep when she heard the door creak open. It was all she could do not to weep. Why were these people being so kind to her? She didn’t deserve anyone’s kindness. She couldn’t stay here—and she had absolutely no place to go.

Someone sniffed loudly, and she opened her eyes. William stood at the foot of the bed.

“Caroline?” he said, his voice tremulous and worried. He had his old felt hat crumpled in his hands, and he was as ill at ease as if he were about to call on a total stranger.

She motioned for him to come closer. Her eyes were badly swollen. She turned her head carefully on the pillow so she could see him out of the slit of vision that remained. She realized how bad she must look by his sharp intake of breath. She could see him better now; tears ran down both his cheeks.

“Don’t,” she said, reaching for his hand. His hand was chapped and tough from working outdoors, and cold from his walk to the Steigermanns’. “Don’t cry.”

He gave a halfhearted shrug and tried to do as she asked. “Are you all right, Caroline?” he asked after a moment.

“I’m all right—except that I’m not sure how long I’ve been here.”

“It’s almost two days—Caroline, I should have done something. Look at you,” he said, tears rolling down his face again. “I should have stopped him—”

“William, don’t. Come sit here.” She patted the bed beside her.

He did as she asked, sitting down heavily because he was a big, awkward boy. He jarred her painfully and she tried not to wince.

“It ain’t right, Caroline,” he said, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. “How can this be right? I ain’t staying in that house with Avery anymore. I’m strong and I
know farming. Somebody around here will hire me—maybe I’ll go to the army. I could fight the Yankees, I reckon. I can shoot a gun—”

“No!” Caroline said sharply. “William, please. Don’t make this any worse for me. I can’t worry about you, too. You stay with Avery and you do what he says.”

“Caroline—”

“Do it, William. Because I ask you to, if nothing else. Does Avery know you’re here?”

“I’m supposed to be plowing.”

“William—”

“I couldn’t stand not knowing anything, Caroline! I had to come over here.”

“I’m…glad you did, but you’d better get the plowing done now. You don’t want Avery to find you gone.”

“I hate that house with you not there, Caroline,” he said, his misery showing plainly on his face. “What’s going to happen to you?”

“I…don’t know, William. I think Mother had some relatives in Virginia. Maybe I could write to one of them. Maybe they’d let me stay there until” Her voice trailed away. Until what? She hadn’t dared think that far ahead. “Go on home now. Go on. I promise I won’t do anything or go anywhere without letting you know.”

He stood up because she pushed him, but he didn’t leave.

“Caroline—”

“I’m sorry, William,” she said. “I…didn’t mean to be so bad.”

“You ain’t bad, Caroline! You ain’t the first woman this happened to. Don’t you go saying you’re bad! And nobody else better not say it, either!”

He abruptly bent down to her, giving her an awkward hug, the way he used to when he was a small child. “I’m going to take care of you, Caroline. Don’t you worry about that.” He stood for a moment longer, then abruptly went
out the door, bumping into something in the hall on his way downstairs.

“Little brother,” she whispered, trying not to cry. She gave a wavering sigh. She had never felt so bereft in her life. William’s love was unconditional and far more than she deserved.

She struggled to sit up on the side of the bed. She had lain in the dark like a wounded animal long enough. She had to get dressed. She had to think. She had to make some kind of plan. For the first time, she made a deliberate inspection of her face, hobbling to the washstand mirror so she could see everything Avery had done. She hardly recognized herself. It was no wonder William had been so startled. She tried braiding her hair, but it quickly became too much of an effort. She hunted until she found the frayed calico work dress she’d arrived in and her underclothes, and she put them on. Then she tilted the mirror on the washstand downward and turned sideways to look at herself. Avery had been right. She was beginning to show.

Poor baby—

“Caroline,” Leah Steigermann said behind her, making her jump. She smoothed the front of her dress and turned to face her.

“You are better today, yes?” Leah asked kindly, but her eyes went to Caroline’s belly.

“Yes,” Caroline answered. “Better.” She could feel her eyes welling with tears again, and she looked abruptly away.

“I’ve brought you something to eat—some of my mother’s egg custard. You’ll like it, I think. Come sit here.” She pulled a chair closer to the fireplace with her free hand, handing Caroline the custard cup, a starched napkin and a spoon when she sat down. “Go on,” she coaxed. “It’s what you need now.”

Caroline looked at the custard, then began to eat. It was quite delicious.

“You must eat all of it,” Leah said. She knelt in front of the fireplace to add another cedar log to the fire. The smell of burning cedar filled the room and a shower of sparks flew out onto the hearth and up the chimney. “I have promised my father.”

“Promised him what?” Caroline asked. She kept glancing at Leah’s profile as she deftly managed the log with the heavy iron poker. Leah was very beautiful, and spoiled, and pampered, and Caroline would never have guessed that she would attempt such a mundane task as stoking a fire.

“I promised him that I’d get you to eat something so you will have strength,” she said, still poking at the log. She looked at Caroline. “He’s coming to talk to you.”

About what?
Caroline nearly asked, but the question was ridiculous. There would be but one topic of conversation for John Steigermann or anyone else—her illicit pregnancy. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to think about how stupid she had been.

Oh, Kader.

She had loved Kader Gerhardt for a long time. She had loved him enough to tell him so—afterward. And she had seen the veiled look that came into his eyes. She realized immediately that her love was of no importance to him. He had wanted her body, not her devotion. She kept telling herself that she hadn’t meant for anything to happen between them that day. She hadn’t gone looking for him. She’d only meant to return a book he’d loaned her—
Dying Testimonies of the Saved and Unsaved.
She was going to leave it on his desk, but he was working in the schoolroom. She had stood by the door for a moment watching him, surrounded by the smell of leather-bound books and India ink and wood smoke from the back draft in the small fireplace. And she had loved finding him so completely unaware.

He looked up sharply when he realized he wasn’t alone. “You shouldn’t be here, Caroline,” he said immediately. “What if someone saw you? How would it look?”

“I—I only meant to return this,” she said, flustered because he
was
here and because he was as cross with her as if she’d been one of his recalcitrant pupils.

He stood up from the desk and came closer. She waited, waited for his nearness so that she could savor his clean masculine smell. Kader Gerhardt didn’t stink of sweat and horses and manure. Kader Gerhardt was a gentleman.

“You cause me a great deal of difficulty,” he said, taking the book out of her hand.

“I’m very sorry to disturb you,” she said, still distressed that her unannounced presence had offended him so.

“Does…Avery know you’re here?”

“Avery? No. Avery’s in town buying seed.”

He had smiled then, and he’d been so kind. And how she had craved his kindness. She had been so grateful for it that she took the full responsibility for his passion. The thing that had happened between them was
her
fault. She had come upstairs to the schoolroom alone. She had let him kiss her. She had let him take her. She had let herself be completely overcome by her need for him, and she had lost herself in the touches and kisses and the rush to free her from the layers of wool and muslin that kept them apart.

And then it was abruptly over, and he’d left her lying alone, oblivious to the fact that she was shaken and still
needing
him so badly. She had tried to cover herself. She could hear children running and playing in the churchyard below.

“It’s nothing,” Kader said, intent now on righting his own clothes. “Just the boys playing war. They won’t come up here.”

And then he explained to her how this had all come about.

“You made it impossible for me, Caroline,” he said sadly, as if she had deliberately set out to ruin him. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“I…love you, Kader,” she said, and it was a long time before he answered.

“We will have to be strong, Caroline,” he said finally, not looking at her. “We must behave properly—for your sake.”

His idea of propriety had been to rush her from the schoolroom as quickly as possible before someone saw her there. And to make certain that she had no notion of mentioning anything to Avery. She had been devastated by his coldness. She had given him everything, and he’d only wanted her to get out.

And someone
had
seen her there. Eli Graeber, Frederich’s nephew, who thankfully didn’t speak enough English to understand. Since that day Kader had all but forgotten she existed. There had been no more offers to loan her books, or newspapers with the latest war news. No requests for her help with the younger children in his class. No attempts to engage her in conversation behind Avery’s back at Sunday church services. No wishes for her good health sent via William. She wondered if he knew how dire her need for good health was now.

She realized suddenly that Leah had said something that required her comment. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said I could loan you something of mine to wear.”

“The dress I have is fine, Leah. I…don’t much care how I look.”

“Then I will go to your house and get some of your own things,” Leah decided.

“No. Please—”

“I will go, Caroline,” she insisted. “Avery won’t say no to me.”

No,
Caroline thought unkindly.
And vice versa.

“Eat,” Leah chided. “Please eat some more.”

Caroline shook her head. She was feeling light-headed and queasy again. “I’ve had enough, I think. Please tell your mother it’s—How much I—”

“There,” Leah said brightly, as if Caroline hadn’t been about to cry again. “The fire’s going. I’ll go tell my father to come up. Are you all right, Caroline? You are so pale.”

Caroline managed a painful smile, but she didn’t reply.

Why are you doing this?
she wanted to ask.
Avery certainly isn’t going to love you for it.

But she said nothing. She stared into the fire instead, feeling the heat on her battered face, and she braced herself for yet another ordeal. Leah left the door ajar, and after a moment Caroline could hear her downstairs, then John Steigermann’s heavy treading up the steps to the second floor.

“Please, come in,” she said when he was about to knock on the door. She saw immediately that his wife stood behind him. Mrs. Steigermann was such a frail-looking woman, her fragility exaggerated by her husband’s great size.

John Steigermann motioned for his wife to precede him, and he gave her the only other chair in the room. He remained standing, towering over them both. He stared openly at the bruises on Caroline’s face. It was all she could do not to turn away.

She forced herself to say what needed to be said. “I want to thank you—” she began, but he held up his hand.

“What I have done, anyone would do,” he said, but they both knew that was far from the truth. Anyone might have intervened if a man were beating his horse, but not his unwed and pregnant sister.

“There is something you need to know. Frederich is going to withdraw his pledge of marriage to you,” Steigermann said bluntly.

Caroline looked at him, not knowing what her response should be.

“There is no marriage pledge,” she said after a moment.

“Avery gave his word on your behalf,” he said. “The agreement will be set aside in the church Sunday, Caroline.
You
will have to be there.”

“I?” she said in alarm. “I had nothing to do with Avery’s agreement.”

“Frederich is the injured party, Caroline. And he…says he doesn’t want you. He says the baby you carry isn’t his. I know you have never said that is so,” Steigermann said when she would have interrupted. “But if the baby
is
his, you can say so before God in the church. You can hold him to the pledge.”

“No. I don’t want to marry Frederich. I
never
wanted to marry Frederich.” Her face hurt to talk. She bit down on her lower lip to stop her mouth from trembling.