Lyn Cote (18 page)

Kurt helped her with her shawl, his strong hands brushing against her. Then he opened the door and she and Cissy walked into the chill early-autumn twilight. She tightened the shawl around her. Kurt paused at the two-wheeled cart. It only sat two on the bench, and the driver had to get on first and balance it.

“I’ll ride in the back,” Cissy said, giving Ellen an unreadable sidelong glance.

Ellen didn’t try to decipher it. She waited while Kurt took his seat and Cissy settled herself in the rear. Then he reached down and pulled Ellen up beside him. The desire to keep her hand in his swept through her. Instead, she moved her grip to the bench. “Hold on, Cissy.”

Kurt agreed as he turned the cart and headed toward the sinking sun, its rays filtering through the golden trees and evergreens.

Martin waved and went inside. And envy swept through Ellen. Ophelia had married wisely and now she had a snug cabin, a baby, a busy happy life with a good man.

Were those things within her reach? She’d been so certain when she’d come here of what she wanted, now she wasn’t so sure.

As the cart rocked over the bumpy trail, Ellen experienced the strangest sensation. It was as if invisible bands connected her to Kurt, tugging her toward him. She fought against the pull, but soon she found herself sliding closer to his solid, comforting body, inch by inch. Only her most rigorous effort at control prevented her from leaning against him.

The world around her receded till she only perceived the two of them. In the lowering light, she studied his hands gripping the reins, the golden stubble on his chin, the way his hair curled around his ears. She forced her gaze forward, trying and failing to stop looking at him, very aware that her sister sat only inches behind them.

All too soon they reached the schoolhouse and her door. “Don’t get down,” Ellen told him. She slid from the bench. “Thank you, Kurt.”

Cissy hopped off the back without a word.

“Good night, ladies.” He touched the brim of his hat. “I will wait till you are safe inside. Mrs. Rogers, it was very nice to meet you.”

Cissy did not acknowledge that Kurt had spoken to her as she made her way to the door. Ellen sighed and gave Kurt an apologetic smile before she hurried after her sister, the chill nipping at her heels.

“Kurt?” Cissy asked archly before Ellen could even close the door, her hands on her hips. “You called that Dutchman Kurt?”

“I believe we have more pressing matters to discuss than Kurt Lang, Cissy,” Ellen said, feeling her face redden. “Would you care to tell me what you meant at Ophelia’s?”

“I’m tired, Ellen,” Cissy replied. She turned her back on her sister and began preparing for bed.

Ellen warmed bricks on the hearth and then with only light from the low fire on the hearth, dressed herself for sleep and slipped into the warmed bed beside Cissy. She would eventually get the whole story from her sister. Cissy was hiding more than being struck, though that was bad enough. Cissy was nursing another wrong in her heart, something her little sister was prone to do, her one character flaw in Ellen’s opinion.

But Ellen found that she was having a difficult time being as sympathetic to her sister’s plight as she thought she should have been. Perhaps it was the fact that she’d lashed out at Ellen earlier. But more likely, it was the way she’d treated Kurt, as if he were not worthy of common courtesy.

Ellen couldn’t think of a man more worthy of common courtesy than Kurt Lang.

Tomorrow was another day. She would put aside her anger and insist her sister tell her the truth, and get to the bottom of whatever had happened with Holton. Holton had hurt her, but she didn’t see him as a man who would hit his wife. But Cissy wouldn’t have told them a lie. Regardless, something was not the way it should be between her sister and her husband.

Please, Father, help me to be the sister that Cissy needs.

Chapter Eighteen

O
n Saturday, the next morning, Ellen sat in the knitting circle on benches inside the schoolroom with her sister. She realized she was biting her lower lip, her sister’s moody presence casting a pall over her. Cissy sat to her right, occasionally stitching on a quilt square while Ellen knitted a pair of mittens, her wooden needles clicking.

Everyone in the circle had welcomed Cissy, and her sister had risen to the occasion and appeared fine to the casual observer. Ellen was not a casual observer, however. And she was dreading hearing the rest of the story from her sister, guessing that her sister held Ellen responsible for some portion in her problem. She found it impossible to relax.

The women of the community had come together to knit, quilt and sew today while the men built the school’s woodshed. Outside, the men were enlarging the school clearing by cutting down trees and then chopping the wood to stack and dry. Winter was coming—the brisk wind that buffeted the windows announced that.

Ellen’s stomach knitted itself into knots. The news that Holton might have struck Cissy was not the only cause. She knew there was more, and since it was being held back, Ellen was certain it would be worse. Although what could possibly be worse?

“I’m so grateful to everyone for donating yarn and for knitting socks, hats and mittens. My son Isaiah will be so happy,” Lavina said, sitting across the circle from Ellen. Her son helped at the Ojibwa reservation in far northern Wisconsin, and they were knitting items to donate to his mission work.

“I thought he’d come home for good by now,” Mrs. Ashford said. “He’s been up there with those Indians almost a year.”

“He is needed at the mission. And he loves it,” Lavina said mildly.

Ellen could hear the men’s voices outside over the noise of saws, hammers and axes, and she realized she was actually listening for Kurt’s voice. This caused her to blush, and she bowed her head over her work so no one would notice.

“So have President and Mrs. Grant been home to Galena, Mrs. Rogers?” Mrs. Ashford asked Cissy.

“No,” Cissy said, not looking up from her quilt square. “I believe they are quite busy in Washington.”

Mrs. Ashford waited for more of a reply, but none came. Ellen’s neck muscles knit themselves tightly together. Her sister seemed to have drifted back into her sullen rudeness. Ellen felt she needed to make some excuse for her, but didn’t quite know how.

“What do you think of your sister taking in a foundling?” The archly asked question came from one of the women whom Ellen didn’t know well.

Cissy looked at William lying in his cradle at Ellen’s feet, exercising his legs and arms and gurgling as toddlers crawled around him playing with blocks and clacking jar rims. “My sister has a tender heart—too tender sometimes.”

“Everyone knows how sweet your sister is,” Sunny Whitmore agreed.

“Yes, Ellen is
always
thinking of others,” Cissy replied with an ironic edge to her voice.

Ellen pricked up her ears and gave her sister a sharp look. What on earth was she referring to? As soon as the knitting circle was finished, Ellen intended to get to the bottom of it. She couldn’t put it off any longer.

As Kurt entered the schoolhouse behind Martin, he couldn’t stop himself from immediately directing his attention to Ellen. To him, she stood out from all the other women. He tried to not let this show. But he couldn’t help responding in kind to the welcoming smile she sent him.

“It’s lunchtime, isn’t it?” Martin asked, taking off his leather gloves as the other men began coming in, clapping their chilled hands together.

The women rose from their handwork and the men began moving the benches into rows and noisily setting up the rectangular folding tables Noah Whitmore and Gordy Osbourne had built. The women set out the food on the table in the teacher’s quarters. Soon Noah had blessed the food and the work the community had come together to do, and everyone settled down to good food and to enjoy the gathering.

Kurt found himself sitting beside Ellen, across from the Ashfords. The teacher’s sister sat beside Mrs. Ashford, not talking to anyone. He’d gotten the impression she didn’t like having an immigrant nearby. However, he wasn’t about to leave Ellen’s side. He’d realized that Ellen, under her smile, did not look happy and he suspected her sister was the reason.

Just then, the door opened and Gunther walked inside. “Hello! I see I arrived in time for a good meal!”

Amanda leaped up as if to go to him, but instead she remained beside her father, smiling and clasping her hands together.

Kurt was surprised and pleased by the warm welcome Gunther received. People called out, “Welcome home!” A few of the men even rose and slapped him on the back.

Soon, Gunther sat near Kurt with a heaping plate of food, telling everyone about the trip to New Glarus. “Mrs. Bollinger’s cousin has a fine farm at New Glarus and he welcomed her,” Gunther said between bites. “Of course, everyone was sad about her husband’s death, but her cousin will look after her. It was odd to be someplace where everyone was speaking German.” He shook his head. “I’ve gotten used to English.”

Amanda smiled at him and he grinned back.

“Amanda,” Mrs. Ashford said, “why don’t you go to the dessert table and choose something for Gunther? The desserts are nearly picked over.”

Amanda looked startled, but moved to obey.

Kurt was also quite surprised by Mrs. Ashford’s instruction to Amanda. Then he felt the lightest touch glance his hand under the table. Looking sideways, he caught the briefest smile as it flickered over Ellen’s face. The intimacy of this wordless communication nearly withdrew all the air from him. He struggled to appear normal while his heart did somersaults.

“I think I’ll go, too,” Ellen said, rising. “May I get you something, Mr. Lang?”

“Yes, thank you, Miss Thurston,” he replied, sounding much more normal than he actually felt.

When Amanda and Ellen returned with desserts in hand and set them in front of Gunther and Kurt, Ellen’s sister got up, her chin lifted defiantly. “Ellen, I have one of my headaches. I’m going to lie down.” Then she left, walking stiffly through the crowded room as if she’d been offended somehow, looking neither right nor left.

“I am sorry your sister does not feel good,” Kurt said.

“Me, too,” Ellen murmured, sounding worried.

“We should remove what’s left of the food from your quarters,” Mrs. Ashford said, “so we don’t disturb her.”

Ellen rose and the two of them disappeared through the connecting door. Amanda asked Mr. Ashford’s permission to go outside with Gunther to “talk.”

Kurt watched in amazement as the man nodded his permission. After the young people left, Mr. Ashford looked at him. “I’ll admit, Mr. Lang, that we didn’t have a very good opinion of your brother at first. He seemed to have a chip on his shoulder. But he has helped many without being asked. And Amanda tells us he is studying hard and plans to become a citizen when he’s able.”

“Yes,” Kurt said, astonished by both the burst of pride within him and Mr. Ashford’s words.

“You’re doing a good job with your charges.”

Kurt nodded, dry-mouthed.
“Danke.”
In a daze, he got up and went to help the ladies move the food out of the teacher’s quarters. When Mrs. Ashford left the room with her hands full, he leaned over to whisper in Ellen’s ear. “What has happened with the Ashfords?”

Ellen merely looked him in the eye and raised both eyebrows, giving him a pleased smile.

“So, Ellen,” Cissy snapped, reminding him that they were not alone. “You left me behind with Holton and are already interested in someone else. A foreigner, to boot.”

Ellen turned to her sister, appearing incredulous.

Kurt mumbled a few quick parting words and hurried outside, shutting the side door behind him. What was going on? Who was Holton? His head spun with questions.

He quickly donned his jacket, went outside and picked up where his work had stopped along with the other men congregating around the finished wood shed. Swinging an ax to make firewood would be easier than trying to figure out what was happening inside between the two sisters.

* * *

Ellen gaped at her sister. “Now? With the whole town in the next room, you decide to tell me what’s going on
now?
”

“Yes, now!” Cissy exploded. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth about him, Ellen?”

Surprise buzzed up Ellen’s spine. “About whom?”

“I’m not a child! Why do you keep treating me like one, Ellen?” Cissy jumped to her feet.

Reeling, Ellen sat down on the stool by the hearth. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Cissy glared at her. The expression brought back memories of trying times with Cissy as a stubborn little girl and the times when Cissy had behaved like Ophelia’s mother, making something small into a crisis. All drama.

Two women came in to retrieve the last of the plates, and the dish tub and towels. One glance at the sisters and they vanished within a minute, shutting the door behind them.

“I’m ready to listen,” Ellen said evenly.

Cissy sank to the side of the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me about you and Holton?”

Hearing the question out loud—the question she’d avoided even thinking about. Now she was unsure of what to say, of how to handle the situation.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was making up to you before I came home from school?” Cissy stamped her foot, angry again.

Finally, Ellen came to herself. Now, when she recalled her brief interest in Holton, she didn’t feel the same hurt she’d felt before. Why was that? Could it be, perhaps, that her feelings for Kurt had shown her what she had really been looking for when she’d allowed Holton to become part of her days? She nearly blushed, just thinking of what it would be like to have Kurt call upon her and treat her as someone special.

“Holton did take me out walking and escorted me to a few functions before you came home last summer.” Ellen didn’t add anything about his flattery and marked attention and the way he’d kissed her hand at each farewell.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cissy demanded.

“I...I...” How could she say the truth?

“Because I’m your little sister and you didn’t want to hurt me?” Cissy asked with withering disdain.

Ellen gave her sister an apologetic shrug. “Because I love you and you were so taken with him and happy.”

“Oh, Ellen,” Cissy said, the starch going out of her. “Was that really a kindness? How could you let me fall in love with a man you thought untrustworthy?”

Cissy’s words struck Ellen like lightning. “I never thought that. I just thought that like most men, he wanted you because you...because he preferred you. I didn’t think him untrustworthy...not as far as you were concerned.”

Men always want a pretty wife,
Mrs. Ashford’s voice echoed in her mind, recoiling from them.

“I wrote you about the gossip after you left,” Cissy continued. “I didn’t believe it at first, but then Alice told me it was true and that you left because you couldn’t bear to live in town with me and Holton together. Then Ophelia’s mother had to come and enact one of her scenes in my parlor about how I’d stolen Holton from my own sister.” Cissy’s tone had become dramatic as if mimicking Aunt Prudence.

“Oh, dear,” Ellen said with real sympathy, neglecting to mention that Cissy’s recent behavior had put her in mind of Aunt Prudence.

The two sisters sat, mute. Ellen didn’t know what to say.
What was I thinking?
And why had Holton struck Cissy? He’d never seemed that kind of man.
Did I unwittingly cause my sister to marry an unworthy man?
The possibility devastated her.

“Cissy, I need to know how you got that bruise. How did it happen?” Ellen insisted.

“I told you. Holton struck me.” Cissy’s tone was pouty and she turned away.

Ellen wanted to press the issue but knew this could only stir her sister to more melodrama. And most of the town was still so near them.
The truth will out,
she told herself,
in time.

* * *

There was only one person Ellen wanted to go to—Kurt. She realized he couldn’t change anything. He didn’t even know about Holton and her and Cissy. Still, at the end of the day, Kurt had lingered after everyone else had left. Was he hoping to speak with her?

Wrapping her shawl close around her, Ellen stepped outside, leaving Cissy to mope alone. At the far side of the clearing, Johann was gathering woodchips into a sack for kindling. Kurt was working on the new woodshed, testing the swing of the double doors. She approached him. “Kurt?”

He turned, startled. “Ellen.”

Every fiber of her being drew her closer and before she could talk herself out of it, she was resting her head against his chest. Oh, the comfort of being near him.

After a moment’s pause, his arms closed around her. “You are upset,
ja?
”

“Ja,”
she whispered.

“Your sister has troubles?”

She nodded against him.

He patted her back and murmured,
“Liebschen.”

She didn’t know what the word meant, but it sounded nice. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You are wise. You will sort it out.”

She shook her head against him, again feeling the thick flannel of his shirt rub against her cheek. She had thought when she’d kept quiet over Holton’s sudden interest in Cissy that she had acted in Cissy’s best interest.

Now she might have let her sister be swept into a possibly disastrous marriage. She felt this guilt pulling at her.

Was that true? She wanted to lie down on the cold ground and weep until she ceased to think. “Kurt, sometimes I just want to pack up William, get on a riverboat and run away.” Even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t entirely true.

She didn’t want to leave this man.

Unable to lie to herself any longer, she pulled away from him and looked into his eyes.
I have feelings for this man, deep feelings.

The thought stunned her.

“I know how that feels, but we both ran away already. Didn’t we?” Kurt asked gently.