Slowly he sat up. Did Dirk know his true identity?
“He included money for your return voyage.”
“Why would he do that?” Carl asked.
“Your name has been cleared.”
Carl searched Dirk’s face, trying to make sense of what the man was saying. How much did Dirk know about who he was and what had happened?
“Matthias didn’t tell me much.” Dirk reached into his pocket and tugged out a dirty, tattered letter that was folded into a small wad. “But last night when I first saw you, I thought you looked familiar.”
Carl’s mouth went dry.
“I thought about it all night and finally figured it out this morning when I saw you again.”
“Figured out what?”
“Who you really are.” The glint in Dirk’s eyes was sharp, and he made no effort to give Carl Matthias’s letter.
Carl tried to swallow but couldn’t.
“It all makes sense now.” Dirk struggled to sit up. “The news that the duke’s assassin had been captured. The acquittal of Baron von Reichart’s missing son. And then Matthais’s letter and the money for the return voyage.”
“They found the real assassin?” Hope sprang to life in Carl, and he sat forward with a new excitement. “How? What happened?”
Dirk’s mouth curved into a satisfied smile. “Then you
are
Gottfried Charles von Reichart?”
Carl met Dirk’s gaze head on. How could he possibly hide his identity any longer? “Yes, I am he.”
Dirk’s smile edged higher. Yet there was something about the look in his eyes that chased away the thrill of Carl’s acquittal.
“I also know why Matthias asked me to give you the letter privately.”
Carl turned and looked at Annalisa, who had started walking back to them, her empty basket in one hand, a jug of water in the other, and Sophie in the sling. Gretchen and Snowdrop trailed behind her.
“They don’t know who you are, do they?”
Carl didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He was too ashamed of his deception to speak the words aloud.
“And as far as I’m concerned, they won’t ever need to know.” Dirk’s gaze swung to Annalisa, and he stared at her as if she were already his.
But she wasn’t his. Not yet.
“I know how much Peter hates your father. So there’s no need to hurt them.” Dirk pinned him with a hard look. “As long as you leave town first thing Monday morning.”
Annalisa drew nearer.
Carl couldn’t imagine the pain she would feel to know he’d lied to her over the past months about who he really was.
Dirk held out the wadded letter.
Carl reached for it.
Then Dirk pulled it back. “Monday morning.”
Of course, Carl had known since the moment Dirk walked into the barn and brought the dancing to a halt that he needed to leave. He had no claim on Annalisa, not when he was really her enemy.
On the other hand, could he really walk away, especially on Monday morning knowing Annalisa would end up marrying Dirk, that even if she didn’t want to, she’d do it because she wanted to try to save her farm, which she would likely lose anyway?
Carl ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. “You do know that with the drought and the poor harvest, she probably won’t be able to pay off the loan on the farm.”
Dirk shrugged. “Peter told me as much.”
“Then why marry Annalisa?”
“I’ll sell whatever of value is left, and we’ll move to the West. During the crossing, everyone on the ship talked about the land that’s available in the West practically for free.”
“What if Annalisa doesn’t want to move?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll do my best to take care of her wherever we go.”
Carl wanted to continue arguing with Dirk, but Annalisa and Gretchen were almost upon them.
“I don’t want to know what’s gone on between the two of you this summer,” Dirk said, lowering his voice. “I’m willing to overlook anything she did with you. But I want you to leave now and let me have the chance to gain her affection.”
“And what if she wants me?”
“Do you really think your father would ever approve of a woman like Annalisa? She’s not your kind.”
Maybe at one time, Carl would have thought so too. But now . . . were they really that different? He wasn’t important or wealthy or powerful anymore. He was just a simple man. And she was just a simple woman.
And besides, it didn’t matter what his father thought. He wasn’t living his life for his father. And he certainly didn’t need his father’s money anymore. He’d proven to himself that he could get along just fine without it.
Dirk held out the wadded letter again. “If you care about her, then give her the chance to forget about you. Leave Monday.”
Was Dirk right? Did he need to move on and give Annalisa the chance to forget about him, to start a new life? If he stayed, he’d only be torturing them both with a longing for each other that couldn’t be fulfilled.
Hesitantly Carl touched Matthias’s letter.
Dirk didn’t release his grip. “If you’re not gone by Monday, I’ll make sure everyone knows the truth about who you are.”
With that, Dirk let go and pushed himself up. He struggled to his feet and greeted Annalisa. He took the basket from her, easing her burden.
Carl stuffed the letter into his pocket, next to the note he’d received from Ward. If Dirk didn’t tell everyone who he was, Ward would eventually, especially when Carl refused to cooperate with him.
Maybe it was best to leave on Monday before either of the men said anything.
Gretchen bounded over to him, ignoring Dirk. With a smile she climbed onto his lap and wrapped her arms around him.
He pressed a kiss to her head, taking a deep breath of her silky hair. Could he really leave on Monday—in only two days?
“I’ll rest with you.” The little girl snuggled her head against his chest.
“Ah, that’s good. I need more rest. I’m an old man, and this work is hard on my old bones.” He tried to keep his voice light even though his insides felt like they were ripping in two. “Perhaps I can tell you another story from the Brothers Grimm?”
She nodded and her smile widened. “The story ‘Little Red Cap’?”
“No.” Dirk leveled a stern look at the child. “No stories. It’s time for work again.”
Gretchen’s smile faded, and her eyes sought Carl’s, as if to learn his decision before obeying Dirk.
Carl pushed back the loose strands of her hair that had blown into her eyes. How could he say good-bye to this sweet girl who was like a daughter to him? Yet if he stayed, he would only make it harder for her to adjust to her new papa.
He would have to leave on Monday.
What other choice did he have?
Chapter
18
Carl leaned against the trunk of the maple and patted Sophie’s back. He liked to think she enjoyed being in his arms—at least she always came to him willingly.
After the Sunday morning service, he’d wanted to take Annalisa and the girls home and spend the day with them alone. Since it was his last day, he longed to make the most of every minute with them.
But unfortunately he couldn’t think of an excuse that would allow him to depart from their usual after-church dinner at Peter’s home. On the other hand, given the situation, it was probably wise for him to avoid being alone with Annalisa.
He glanced through the doorway to the dark interior of Peter’s cabin, where Annalisa and her youngest sister, Eleanor, were finishing the meal preparations. If alone with Annalisa, he’d have to face her questions. Even if she didn’t speak them aloud, her eyes would demand to know why he’d proposed marriage but had so easily let her go once Dirk arrived. He’d already seen the question in her eyes on more than one occasion since then.
The trouble was, he didn’t know if he could give her an answer, because he didn’t quite know how to explain it, even to himself. Part of him wanted to stay and fight for her. But the other, more realistic side screamed at him that he was a liar and urged him to move on as he’d planned.
“The fires are too far away to bother us,” Peter said in explanation to one of Uri’s questions. Peter sat on a bench and rested his elbows on the table they’d moved outdoors.
The unending heat made eating in the stifling cabin unbearable. At least outside—even though it was still hot—they had the strong breeze to offer some solace.
Even so, Peter’s Sunday meeting clothes were wet with the splotches of sweat he always wore. He took a gulp of coffee, then glanced to the sky, which had gradually become hazier as the morning had passed into afternoon. The scent of woodsmoke had grown heavier too.
“None of our farmers are such dummboozles that they would set fires under these conditions,” Peter continued.
Dirk sat next to Peter and took a slurp of coffee. Across the table, Uri stared at Dirk with hard, cold eyes. It was apparent Uri didn’t trust the man and was prepared to make him work just as hard for his approval as he’d made Carl work.
Eleanor and Annalisa exited the cabin and approached the shaded table, their hands loaded with steaming platters and bowls. Gretchen trailed after them, holding a bowl of what appeared to be baked apples. She walked slowly and held the bowl steady, watching Annalisa and trying to imitate her.
Carl smiled, but it was bittersweet with the knowledge he wouldn’t get to see Gretchen grow up to be a beautiful woman like her mother. Annalisa, in her dark Sunday meeting dress and with her hair coiled into an elegant knot, was especially fetching. He couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to the creamy stretch
of her neck, the delicate shape of her ear, and the tantalizing curve of her chin.
As if feeling his eyes upon her, she lifted her face to him and gave him a shy smile. Admiration gleamed in the bright blue of her eyes.
His stomach cinched, and he was powerless to do anything but return her smile.
Sophie gave a short cry. “Shhh,” he murmured against the baby’s fuzzy head, repositioning her so that she faced outward and could see Annalisa.
“She’s getting hungry.” Annalisa slid the bowls onto the table.
“She’s not as hungry as I am.” Her compliment from the dance came back to him, about how handsome he’d looked when he held the baby.
She approached and held out her arms to Sophie, who gave a squeal and began to pump her legs in excitement.
“I suppose I’m looking dashing again,” he said softly, ignoring the frown Dirk had shot him.
Annalisa’s smile widened. “Ja. Very dashing.”
He relinquished the baby, but not before his fingers met hers, the warmth of her hand begging him to caress it, hold it, and never let go.
“When she’s done eating, you must give her back to me.” He tried to make his voice playful. “I have my image to uphold.”
“This all looks very delicious,” Dirk called to Annalisa, in a way that demanded she turn her attention to him. “I can see you’re a good cook.”
She nodded at him, but her smile faded, replaced with cool politeness.
Carl couldn’t begrudge Dirk for at least making some effort with Annalisa. So far he’d been kind to her and polite. If she must marry a stranger, then perhaps Dirk would be sufficient. He didn’t seem to be the type of man who would harm her.
Even as Carl’s entire being rejected the thought of her marrying anyone else, he pushed aside the objection and lowered himself next to Uri.
Dirk’s eyes followed him and warned him. The warning was the same one Dirk had been holding over his head since they’d hoed the potatoes the previous afternoon—that he had the power to reveal his true identity to Annalisa and Peter and would do so
if
and
when
he wanted to.
The resentment in Carl’s gut had been growing until now it ate at his insides like acid. Instead of distancing himself from Annalisa, he reached for her hand as she stepped away from the table. He captured her fingers in his, preventing her from retreating with Eleanor to the cabin, where they would eat apart from the men.
She stopped short, sucked in a breath, and stared down at his hold on her.
He knew he was overstepping the bounds of propriety, especially in front of the others, but at the moment he didn’t care. He was tired of Dirk’s threats.
“Why don’t you stay and eat with us today?” Carl tugged her so that she had little choice but to move closer to him.
“Nein—”
“Please?” He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb, letting the smoothness of her skin ease the ache that had been in his chest since he’d decided he must leave on Monday.
She looked at the other men, as if to gauge their reaction to his odd request.
Her father was busy loading his plate with
krautsalat
and
schweinsbraten
, already mesmerized by the strong scent of the garlic and caraway seeds that rose from the pork roast. Uri was lifting the caramelized onions from the beer-soaked juices.
Only Dirk seemed to have noticed Carl’s touch and request.
His thin face lost its pallor and turned a reddish brown like one of the baked apples.
Annalisa shifted Sophie. “I don’t know . . .”
“If you join us, you’d make me a very happy man,” Carl said with a smile.
Her expression softened. And suddenly Dirk’s threats and jealousy didn’t matter. All he could think about was having the chance to sit next to her, brush his shoulder against hers, and feel the loose wisps of her hair against his face.
“Ja. Join us.” Dirk’s voice was laced with annoyance. “Then Carl will be able to tell you about his plans to leave tomorrow.”
Annalisa jerked her hand away and stepped back. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”
Carl shot Dirk a glare. He’d planned to tell Annalisa about his leaving, but not now, not in front of everyone.
Dirk’s lips curved into a smirk.
At the edge of the table with the bowl of apples, Gretchen froze. Sticky apple glaze surrounded her mouth, the telltale signs of her dipping her fingers into the sugary treat. “You can’t leave . . .”
Carl pushed down the sudden urge to get up and run away. If he had to choose, he would have taken the guillotine rather than having to try to explain to Gretchen why he must go.
“I thought you were staying to help harvest the corn,” Annalisa said.