Cheryl Reavis (4 page)

“You would put Caroline in the middle of the trouble between you and Eli and poor Ann—”

“Poor Ann? I am the one cuckolded!”

“Ann made a wrong choice, and she is the one who died for it. I think it would be better if you did withdraw the marriage pledge to Caroline. Let Eli take her. You carry too much pain and resentment still—”

“She won’t be any better off with Eli, Johann, and you know that. Eli has lived his whole life according to his whim. Ann was one of his whims. What if he changes his mind
after
he’s married Caroline? Who will be looking after her and her baby then?”

“I will ask if someone else will make the offer—”

“No! I don’t want any more scandal! And I told you. I can’t—won’t—be beholden to Eli. There will be less talk if I keep my pledge—at least they won’t dare say anything to my face. Caroline Holt is my children’s aunt. She has always been kind to them, and as much as I might dislike it, both of the girls need her.”

“And you, Frederich. What is
it you
need?”

“I need a mother for Lise and Mary Louise.”

“Can you be kind to Caroline? Can you keep from punishing her for Ann’s sin?”

“Look at her, Johann,” Frederich said. “We are alike, she and I. Neither of us cares what happens to us from here on. Perhaps we can do something good for an innocent child, and we can make everybody else happy in the process. I will keep the pledge. I am making the Christian and honorable offer you wanted someone to make.”

“Yes, but are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Johann.”

“I don’t think she’ll marry you, Frederich.”

“What choice does she have? Now go away so I can talk to her.”

“Go away? I can’t leave you in here alone with—”

“Leah is here. I don’t want you listening to what I say to Caroline—for her sake. There are some things that are none of your business. I want her to speak to me without you standing over her with the wrath of God.”

“I don’t do that,” Johann protested. “I never do that.”

“Go away, Johann!”

Caroline watched as the conversation between Frederich and Johann Rial abruptly ended. Johann was disturbed-she could tell that much—and one of his questions had made Frederich angry.

“What were they saying?” she asked Leah, trying hard to stand calmly and not wring her hands.

“I couldn’t hear,” Leah said.

Surprisingly and more than a little reluctantly, Johann left the room. Caroline needed to sit down. With Johann gone, there was no one to stand between her and Frederich Graeber’s anger. She was so tired suddenly, and in spite of everything she could do, she swayed on her feet. She moved blindly to one of the straight chairs in the room, and resisting Leah’s help, she sat down heavily.

Frederich immediately pulled up another chair and sat directly in front of her. He needed to be able to see her face when he talked to her, and he watched her closely. She was more afraid than she was willing to let on, and she was very pale. But she was not an older version of Ann. She looked nothing like his dead wife, and if anything in this situation pleased him, it was that.

“I know what you think of Germans—” he said.

“You know what
Avery
thinks of Germans,” Caroline replied. “You don’t know what I think about anything.”

“I also know what you think of marriage,” he went on as if she hadn’t interrupted. Ann had told him once that Caroline was determined never to be trapped in a loveless and hurtful union like their parents’.

Caroline didn’t respond to that remark, and Frederich waited. After a moment, she reached up and took off her bonnet, as if she wanted him to see her face better. She was not beautiful. He had always thought she had a kind of wasted prettiness, the kind that would have been fine enough for any man—if only she would have smiled more. She was not pretty today. Her face was bruised and swollen, and her dark hair was roached back so that it hid nothing of the damage Avery had done.

“Do you want to marry Eli?” he asked.

“No,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I don’t know why Eli is doing this. And I don’t want to marry you. I never wanted to marry you. I didn’t even know what you and Avery had planned—” She abruptly broke off and looked away. She was not going to explain this
again.

“Why doesn’t the father of this baby marry you?”

Caroline glanced at him, but she said nothing. Then she intently smoothed down her skirt as if that were much more important than his questions.

“Do I…know the man?”

Again, Caroline refused to answer.

“Are you that ashamed of him then?” Frederich asked next, and Caroline’s head came up sharply. She looked him directly in the eyes.

“Take your marriage proposal and be damned,” she said.

“Caroline!” Leah chided her. “We are in the church!”

It surprised him that he was not in the least offended. He was far happier knowing that she was still the strong person Ann had described to him. He intended only to provide her child with legitimacy, nothing more. He wanted no whipped puppy or helpless clinging vine to have to look after.

“I have decided to keep the marriage pledge,” he said, holding up his hand when she would have interrupted. “Before you are so quick to say no, I remind you
that you
are the one who needs a marriage ceremony. I also remind you that my children—Anna’s children—need a woman who cares about them. Beata is no mother to them. It has been hard to see them so lonely since Anna died. Perhaps you will think of a marriage to me as a way to help your sister’s children as well as yourself. If you agree to it, I give you my word that I will take care of you as best I can. But I will expect you to be a good wife. I will expect you to be civil to me. I do not take Avery’s place as someone you must do battle with at every turn—”

“How can you speak of marriage? You think I’m not fit to have anything to do with your children,” she said.

“Yes,” he answered. “I do. But you are innocent in my children’s eyes and you are important to them. I have never had cause to think you unfit until now.”

Caroline looked abruptly away.

“You…don’t say anything about the baby,” she said, realizing even as she said it that she sounded as if she were actually considering the possibility of marrying him. She looked up at him. “Can you be kind to another man’s child?”

She saw a flicker of emotion cross his face. He took a moment to answer.

“The child cannot help how it got here. If you marry me, then it will be mine. There is nothing left to say about this and we are wasting time. Do we marry or not, Caroline Holt?
Antworten Sie entweder ja oder nein.
Answer yes or no.”

Her eyes met his briefly, but she then quickly looked away. She said nothing, her hands clutching the folds of her skirt.

“Your right to pick and choose husbands
you
have forfeited, Caroline Holt. You can sit and cry and live on John Steigermann’s charity or you can marry me,” he said impatiently.
“If the answer is yes, we will have the ceremony right now. Everyone who is still here will be invited to stay to witness it. There will be no hiding. People already know the reason for our marrying—or not marrying. There will be no more shame about what has happened.”

“I don’t even know you,” Caroline said abruptly. “You’re a stranger to me.”

“Every person who marries marries a stranger,” Frederich said. “No one knows that better than I. But I am less a stranger than most. We are part of the same family.” He stared at the bruises on her face. “I give you my word now that I will not beat you. I will not let Avery or anyone else beat you. What else do you want?”

What indeed?
Caroline thought.

The door abruptly opened.

“I can’t wait out here any longer, Frederich,” Johann said in German. “I’ve been talking to Eli and he—”

“This matter is between Caroline Holt and me. Eli has no part in it.”

“I know that, Frederich. It’s Beata I’m worried about. She’s becoming a…problem.”

“Beata is
always
a problem.”

“She is threatening to swoon,” Johann said in English.

“Swoon?” Frederich asked, not familiar with the word.

He smiled at Johann’s explanation of this terrible thing Beata would inflict upon him to have her way. He had no doubt that their sire would have capitulated immediately at such a dire threat from his spoiled daughter. The old man was long gone—and Beata still believed that the mere possibility of her keeling over in public would turn the world according to her wishes.

“Caroline Holt,” he said, getting up from the chair. “We have wasted enough time. Tell me now. Do we go make Beata
swoon
or not?”

N
early everyone stayed for the wedding.

Forgive me, Ann,
she kept thinking. She was a coward and she had no other choice. She clung to Frederich’s arm like a person in danger of drowning, far more ashamed of having to accept his offer of marriage than of her out-ofwedlock pregnancy. She stood before God and she answered the questions Johann Rial asked her until suddenly the ordeal was over. The church emptied, and a feeble celebration began. Johann brought out three kegs of hard cider from his own cellar for the impromptu wedding guests. The men swarmed the kegs, dragging Frederich off with them as they queued up to pass around a common dipper. Their congratulations were loud and boisterous, and some of them began cracking their whips in a kind of belated
Polterabend,
the noisemaking necessary to scare away the German evil spirits the evening before a wedding. She remembered the raucous demonstration surrounding Ann’s marriage to Frederich—Ann standing on the Holt front porch and laughing up at her dour soon-to-be-husband.

It occurred to Caroline, too, that everyone here accepted the obvious reason for her agreeing to marry Frederich Graeber. She was pregnant; the real father of the baby was unwilling. And while Eli had come to her rescue like some
Sturm und Drang
hero who intended to make an honest
woman of her no matter what, it was Frederich’s arm she held on
to.
She held on to his arm, and she knew the truth. She had married Frederich because on the worst day of her life, this seemingly humorless man had dared to make light of her predicament. Neither his prenuptial promises nor her great need had swayed her the way his almost mischievous remark about Beata had. She had nearly laughed in spite of her misery, and it was as if he had given her a brief and shining glimpse of the person she used to be.

What happened to that girl?
she wondered, watching as Frederich accepted another dipperful of cider.
What happened to the Caroline Holt who used to dance and sing and laugh so easily?
She could remember quite distinctly a time when she had been happy. Being sent to school in town when she was fifteen had been one of the greatest joys of her life. Her mother had insisted that she be educated, paying for Caroline’s three years at the Female Academy out of her own small inheritance, regardless of her husband’s wishes. But today was the first time Caroline had realized that her father had been right in wanting to keep his daughter in her place. Her mother had done her no favor in giving her a taste of the kind of life
she
had come from. An education was supposed to make one better, not forever dissatisfied and longing for the things one couldn’t have. Her mother had been born to live in town and go to teas and lectures and poetry readings, not she. She had been born to be a farmer’s wife, to work herself into mindless exhaustion, to bear children until she died like Ann. Her fine education had done nothing to change that. She took a quiet breath. If she was thankful for anything, it was that neither of her parents had lived to see this day. Her downfall would have done nothing but fuel the contempt they had for each other.

She jumped as John Steigermann fired a shotgun in the air. He gave her a sheepish grin and she smiled. Given the circumstances of this marriage, she needed to have the evil spirits as far away as possible. It was a shame that the
Polterabend
didn’t work on Beata. Her new sister-in-law hadn’t swooned after all, and every time Caroline looked up, Beata was whispering to a different group of women. Caroline had misjudged Beata in the early days of Ann’s marriage, thinking her flighty and insecure and living in Frederich’s household on sufferance much as she herself lived in Avery’s. Beata always talked nervously with her hands, her pale eyes darting away, as hard to pin down as a little boy caught with the telltale remains of a pie left cooling on the windowsill. Her torso was too thick for her arms and legs, the heaviness accentuated by a dowager’s hump. There were heavy lines in her face from nose to mouth and between her eyebrows. She was crude and vulgar and vindictive, and she had made Ann’s life a nightmare.

Caroline huddled with Leah and tried to pretend that she didn’t notice how few of the women came near after Beata spoke to them. She knew perfectly well what Beata was about. She was making sure that a hasty marriage didn’t change Caroline Holt’s status as an outcast.

She sighed and looked away from Beata’s animated discourse with yet another group of women to find Leah watching her.

“No one will believe her, Caroline,” Leah said quietly.

“Won’t they? What is she saying?”

“Beata tells lies, Caroline—”

“Tell me.”

“Caroline, it’s better to just ignore her.”

“Please, Leah. I can’t defend myself if I don’t know.”

Leah hesitated, then gave a small sigh. “She…says you’ve been going to town and lying with the soldiers who are always around the depot. She says you don’t know who your baby’s father is.”

Caroline nearly laughed at the irony. She hadn’t been into town in more than a year, and Avery had refused to take her along with him the day she’d gone to the schoolroom. But she couldn’t deny Beata’s tales. To do so, to say she hadn’t
been to town in so long would only focus the speculation about who had fathered her child on the men here.

She watched Avery at the cider kegs. He had said nothing to her or Frederich since they’d come out of the church, and he was drinking heavily, pushing his way in to refill the dipper again and again. And Kader was there—apparently had been in attendance all the time, and he was clearly enjoying the celebration. She gave a sharp intake of breath as he suddenly snatched the dipper out of Avery’s grasp. He lifted it high and toasted Frederich with it, slapping him on the back and shaking his hand. Then he made some remark that caused the men to roar with laughter.

“Are you all right?” Leah asked.

“Quite all right,” she answered, and she realized that Kader Gerhardt was probably the only person here who was truly happy about her marriage.

She turned and looked the other way, determined not to let Kader see how forlorn she felt. She was so cold. Her entire body ached with it, and her hands trembled from the strain of the morning and the long time since she’d eaten. She wanted to speak to Lise and Mary Louise, but Beata keep them close by her side. How many times today would Lise have to hear about her Aunt Caroline and the soldiers at the depot?

“Leah, could you ask your father to tell William what’s happened?” Caroline said abruptly. “I promised him I’d let him know whatever I…decided to do. I want him to hear more than just Avery’s version.”

She was certain that otherwise William would never believe she’d done this thing. She didn’t believe it herself, any more than she believed that she could have actually asked Leah Steigermann for a favor.

“I’m…sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you with Avery,” Caroline said. “I know you care about him, and I thank you for your help today. I don’t think I could have made it otherwise.
Avery is bound to have hard feelings, and I just want you to know that I’m…sorry.”

“Ah, well,” Leah said, immediately dismissing the apology. “What can anyone do about Avery?”

Nothing,
Caroline thought.
Absolutely nothing.

“I will go find my father now,” Leah said. “He will see that William is told.” She put her hand on Caroline’s arm. “You
are
lucky, Caroline. Your baby will have a name now. And Frederich has money and land. He’s quite handsome—you must try not to mind how the marriage happened.”

Handsome? Caroline hadn’t thought of him as ugly, but neither had she recognized his handsomeness. She looked for him in the crowd around the cider kegs to verify Leah’s opinion. He wasn’t there anymore. She finally saw him standing alone with a dipper in his hand at the stone wall near Ann’s grave.

She couldn’t keep from shivering. The wind was far too sharp for an outside celebration, particularly one as halfhearted as this one. The women were anxious to leave, and the men began seeking out Frederich again to shake his hand. Only a few people said goodbye to Caroline.

She looked around as Lise and Mary Louise came running to her, both of them clinging to her with as much desperation as she herself was beginning to feel. She forced herself to smile at their upturned faces. Blond and freckled Lise, who was so quiet and serious and old beyond her years. And Mary Louise, who was as mischievous as she was merry. Caroline wondered how much it bothered Frederich that his youngest child was dark-haired and brown-eyed like the Holts.

“Is it true what Papa says?” Lise asked earnestly. “Are you coming to our house?”

“Yes,” Caroline said. “It’s true.” She looked across the churchyard to where Frederich stood.

Why did you do this?
she thought. She had no beauty, no reputation, no virtue. She had only her availability for the wedding night and any other night he felt so inclined.

Kader!

She hugged both the nieces tightly, and she couldn’t keep from shivering again. Frederich had moved to the Graeber wagon now. Beata hovered at his elbow, still talking. Both of them stared in her direction.

“Look, Aunt Caroline!” Lise said. “My tooth is loose!”

She looked down and smiled at the front tooth Lise wiggled with her tongue, then laughed as Mary Louise tried to wiggle hers as well.

“I can’t do it!” Mary Louise said, grabbing Caroline around the knees, nearly toppling her. “You do it, Aunt Caroline!”

“Silly Willy,” Lise said. “You’re just a baby. You have to be seven like—Papa wants me,” she said abruptly as Frederich gestured for her to come to him. There was no doubt in either of their minds that he meant
now.

Caroline stood awkwardly, watching Lise scurry to see what Frederich wanted. Should she make Mary Louise follow? Was she to ride back with Beata and the children or had he made some other arrangement?

Mary Louise kept pulling at Caroline’s skirts, and she bent to lift her. But Frederich walked up. He said nothing, taking the child out of her grasp. His eyes met hers over the top of Mary Louise’s head. The anger was still there, she thought in dismay. She could never make peace with this man, even if she wanted to. His bitterness came solely from injured pride at his having trusted Avery Holt, and not from the fact that he’d actually ever wanted her. She was astute enough to recognize a man’s interest when she encountered it, the subtle and not so subtle looks that came when one’s brother or father wasn’t looking. She’d never gotten any such looks from Frederich. Frederich Graeber had barely acknowledged her existence. The memory of the day Ann died surfaced in her mind again. He was a powerful man,
strong from his work in the fields, and she realized at that moment that, in spite of his promise, she was as physically afraid of him as she had ever been of Avery.

Mary Louise started to cry, and Frederich seemed about to say something. But then he turned abruptly and walked back toward the wagon, with Mary Louise still crying and reaching for her over his shoulder.

Caroline stood for a moment longer, then made her decision. She wasn’t going to try to second-guess Frederich. If he didn’t want her at the Graeber wagon, he was going to have to say so. She gave an ironic smile. She could see herself left standing, the Graebers riding away home, freed of the burden of her presence—but it wouldn’t be because she had let Frederich intimidate her. She had done nothing wrong—at least where Frederich Graeber was concerned.

Frederich turned to her the moment she walked up. “Where is Eli? We are going.”

“I don’t know,” she said evenly.

“Get on the wagon. I don’t expect to have to tell you everything.”

She bit down on her reply, surprised by the surge of anger she felt.

“Aunt Caroline,” Lise said, leaning over the wagon edge and holding out her hand.

Caroline took it, intending to step up on the hub of the wagon wheel. But it hurt too much to lift her leg that high. She tried with the other leg, Lise pulling hard on her hand while Mary Louise still cried for Caroline to hold her. Beata climbed in on the other side, settling herself on the front wagon seat and giving off a loud tirade in German Caroline couldn’t begin to understand. People were beginning to turn and stare, and Johann was walking rapidly toward them.

“Mein Gott,”
Frederich said under his breath. He lifted Caroline roughly upward and deposited her beside his daughters, his broad hand resting directly over a bruise on her back. She couldn’t keep from crying out. Her eyes smarted, and she bit down on her lower lip. The pain stayed.

Thankfully, Eli appeared, intercepting Johann before he reached the wagon. She couldn’t bear any more heavy-handed concern from either of them today. The two men talked while Beata muttered under her breath and Frederich fidgeted impatiently.

“Eli!” he yelled suddenly, making Caroline jump.

After a moment, Eli came and took a seat beside Caro-

line. He said nothing to anyone but Lise, some remark in German that made her smile. Frederich looked over his shoulder once, then cracked his whip to get the horses moving. Beata’s muttering immediately became loud, guttural German again, the brunt of it directed at Frederich as far as Caroline could tell.

How am I going to stand this?
she thought. She closed her eyes and tried to endure. She was in agony having to sit on the hard wagon seat. Her head ached and her nose ran from the cold—and she had no handkerchief. It was all she could do not to burst into tears and wail right along with Mary Louise.

Frederich said something to Beata in German as the wagon turned into the narrow road leading up to the Graeber house.

“And what does a whore like
her
need with clothes?" Beata answered in English, looking directly at Caroline.

Eli was out of his seat and would have put his hands on Beata if Frederich hadn’t grabbed him by his coat front to intervene. The horses pranced and reared nervously, and Mary Louise began to cry again.

“Enough!” Frederich bellowed. “By God, I have had enough!”