Robin Lee Hatcher (13 page)

So what had Lance done to make her cry like that? Was it because he’d proposed marriage, but Jakob had made her promise to stay working for him until after harvest?

“Sure, and I’m thinkin’ Karola Breit is worth lovin’ and that
you know it, too.”

Of course she was worth loving. He’d never tried to say she wasn’t. He could understand why Lance would fall in love with her. She was pretty, kind, generous, tender. She worked hard and never complained. She was courageous. She was gentle and loving with the children. What wasn’t to love about her?

“’Twould be a pity if she were to marry the wrong man, with
you lovin’ her as you do.”

But he didn’t love Karola, and it didn’t matter to him what Tulley or anybody else said. He didn’t have it in him to fall in love again.

Jakob stopped walking, raked the fingers of both hands through his hair, then looked around, as if coming out of a trance. He found himself standing not far from Karola’s cabin.

When had it all gone wrong? His plan hadn’t seemed too complicated when he’d thought it up last winter. He’d needed a wife to care for his children. He’d been honest about that when he contacted Karola. It wasn’t his fault his letter of explanation had been lost in the post. How was he to know she’d expected them to love one another after all these years? How was he to know she’d never married because she’d been waiting for him?

He groaned.

He should have known. Just because he’d lost hope along the way didn’t mean Karola would. He should have known that about her.

So, all right. Fair enough. She’d called off the wedding, then come to work for him instead of being his wife. Shouldn’t that have made things better? He hadn’t wanted to marry anyway. Not really. And she
had
promised to stay until after the harvest. That would be far longer than any of the other women he’d hired lasted. Surely by harvesttime he’d be able to find a replacement for her.

No one could replace Karola … no one had eyes so blue or a smile so sweet … no one had a voice that rang with such music …

He scowled at the thoughts. Don’t be stupid! Eyes, voice … every woman had them. He would find one and he’d do so quickly. He wasn’t sure how, but he’d do it.

And if you do, how long will she stay? Three months? Six
months? A year? How soon will you need another replacement?

It seemed taking a wife was still the best answer.

“’Twould be a pity if she were to marry the wrong man, with
you lovin’ her as you do.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, and hid his face in his hands. “I don’t love her,” he said softly. “I don’t want to love her or any other woman.” He straightened suddenly, looking upward at the patch of blue sky, fighting the ache that had lodged in his chest. “The price is too high.”

Besides, Karola didn’t love him. She’d said so herself.

Chapter Nineteen

1 July 1908
in care of Jakob Hirsch
Shadow Creek, Idaho

Dear Father and Mother,

I am sorry for not writing to you in many days. I go to
Jakob’s home each morning even before the sun comes
up, and each night when I return to my cabin, I am too
tired to keep my eyes open.

The heat has not helped. The temperature rises every
day to nearly one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. The sun
blazes in a cloudless sky, baking the earth below. Sometimes,
in late afternoon or early evenings, thunderclouds
build on the horizon, but they have brought neither rain
nor relief from the oppressive warmth.

I have discovered how completely ignorant I was
regarding the difficult life of a farmer. In Father’s bakery,
our days were much the same, rising early and making
the same breads, pies, and cakes. Our work was hard, but
we knew what each day would bring. But the farm, I have
found, has new and unexpected challenges mixed with the
routine chores of daily life. A horse gets injured. A calf
becomes sick. A coyote threatens the chicken coop. And
the weather always matters. Always.

Jakob is a good farmer, and he is respected by his
neighbors. They come to him for advice about their crops
and the irrigation of their land. Jakob studies books,
newspapers, magazines, and anything else that will help
him increase his knowledge and make him a better
farmer. He does whatever he can to assure his harvest
will be plentiful and his children well provided for.

Even with the long days of hard work, Jakob never fails
to be an attentive father. When we were young and courting
all those years ago, it was I who spoke of wanting
many children. It never seemed important to Jakob,
although he agreed to please me. I knew that even then.
But Jakob loves his children fiercely. As he loved their
mother.

Does a man who loved and lost a wife ever find room
in his heart for another? I am beginning to believe not.

Shadow Creek is preparing for its Independence Day
celebration, which will be held in three more days. This
is an annual event for the people of this valley, as it is for
people in every town and city around this great nation.
Maeve tells me that it is great fun, and she and Bernard
are almost giddy with anticipation.

All of the businesses in Shadow Creek will close for
the day, and there will be a parade and a bazaar in the
town’s park where a band will play music in the gazebo.
There will be a fireworks display after sunset. They even
auction the boxed luncheons of the single young ladies
and women of Shadow Creek to the highest bids by the
unmarried men. I was alarmed when I learned of this but
am assured by my friend, Laura Gaffney, that it is a
respectable and fun event.

Do you remember when I wrote to you about Lance
Bishop and his unrequited love for the blacksmith’s
daughter? I did something impulsive, thinking I would
help him win her affection. Oh, it is too complicated to
explain in a letter, but now people believe Lance and I
have formed an affection for one another. It is not true.
Not the way they think. We are friends. That is all. Lance
believes I have achieved what I wished, that Charlotte is
seeing him in a new light, and he is grateful. I am not certain
he should be. Not yet. I fear the end results may not
be what either of us would wish.

I can make excuses. I can say I never actually told a
lie, but even that is an untruth. For by my actions and my
implications, I deceived others.

Why am I like this? Always rushing ahead, acting on
impulse, letting my emotions control me? When will I
learn to stop and consider my actions first? I know the
answer because I read it in my Bible. The answer is to
cease being carnally minded, to stop wanting the things
of this world more than I want God’s will. “For they that
are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they
that are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit. For to be
carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is
life and peace.”

This week I have been reading the book of Proverbs
and have seen how much God wishes for his children to
be wise and to exercise self-control. I must seem a great
failure to him most of the time. Yet he loves me anyway,
and for that I am thankful.

Your loving daughter,
Karola Breit

Chapter Twenty

A
man could only fool himself for so long. And when Karola Breit stepped off the back porch that Independence Day morning, wearing a red-and-white striped skirt, a white blouse with billowy sleeves, and a large straw bonnet that sported red, white, and blue ribbons, Jakob knew he could no longer deny one obvious truth: she meant more to him than just a housekeeper and a caretaker for his children. She was more than an employee in his home.

But what exactly was she to him?

The question dogged Jakob as he loaded the back of the wagon with two wicker baskets, Karola’s boxed lunch for the auction, a covered tray that held four pies for Miss Joki, and several blankets.

“Is that everything?” he asked Karola as he tethered his saddle horse—the one he planned to race that afternoon—to the back of the wagon.

“
Ja,
it is everything. We are ready.”

Jakob lifted the children into the wagon. First, Maeve and Aislinn in their matching white dresses, starched and ironed to perfection. Next, Bernard in his short pants, white shirt, and suspenders. Finally, Jakob offered a hand to Karola and assisted her to the wagon seat, then he joined her there, picked up the reins, and the family headed for Shadow Creek.

The family …

Yes, they were like a family, the five of them. And he cared for Karola. Cared for her more than he wanted to admit. Could Tulley be right? Was it love he felt? Had he fallen in love with Karola?

He glanced to his right. She was staring into the distance, a faraway expression on her face. He wondered where her thoughts had taken her.

It was difficult to know. They’d spoken little in the days since he’d found her weeping in Lance’s arms. That was his fault. He’d made himself scarce. Isn’t that what he did when emotions got the better of him, bury himself in his work?

No wonder she’d looked elsewhere for affection. He’d offered her no other choice.

Is it too late to change your mind about me, Karola?

Even if she could, did he want her to? Did he want her to love him? Moreover, did he want to love her? Hadn’t he suffered enough loss in his life?

Jakob detested all the questions and his indecisiveness. It wasn’t like him to vacillate this way, to not know his own mind or what he wanted.

What do you feel for me, Karola?

He looked away, as if afraid she might hear his silent question and answer him.

Karola had loved him once, years ago. He knew that was true. But he doubted there was much, if anything, left in him of the young man she’d loved. Chances were, even if he tried to win her heart, she wouldn’t want him.

Why would she? He hadn’t treated her fairly. He’d made her many promises back in Germany, then he’d disappeared without a trace, without so much as a letter to say, “I’m sorry.” There was a whole list of things to call a man who did what he’d done, and most of them weren’t repeatable in polite company.

He hadn’t done any better by Karola upon her arrival in America.

It’s a wonder she doesn’t hate me.

But for some reason, she didn’t seem to hate him. She had worked hard to make his house a home. She could have punished him, made him sorry he’d forced her to remain, but she hadn’t.

“Tell me something, Karola.” The words were out before Jakob could stop them.

“Ja?”

He met her gaze. Such soft blue eyes, like a hazy summer day. “Weren’t you ever angry at me?”

“Angry?”

“For not sending for you all those years ago. Like I promised I would.”

“Oh.” She looked into the distance again. “
Ja,
I was angry. I even thought I hated you for a time. But that was long ago.”

“Even without the past, I’ve given you plenty of reasons to be mad since you got here.”

The hint of a smile curved the corners of her mouth. “
Ja,
you have.”

“So, why not?”

She met his gaze, her eyes filled with patience. Then she shook her head. “I do not know, Jakob. I would be lying if I said I have not been hurt and confused. But I am to blame for my circumstances, too. I had to learn that for myself. Perhaps that is why God brought me to America. So I could grow up.”

Jakob was about to ask if she could forgive him for every hurt he’d caused her, but he was interrupted by his elder daughter.

“Look, there’s Mr. Lance.”

“Hello!” Lance cantered toward the wagon.

Karola smiled and waved. Behind them, the children chorused their greetings. Jakob remained mute, not the least bit happy to see his friend.

“Karola,” Lance said as he drew his mount to a walk, falling in beside the wagon, “you look like you belong on a carousel. You’re as pretty as a picture.” He chuckled. “And I reckon that blush makes you even prettier.”

Indeed, her rosy cheeks were pretty.
She
was pretty, from the top of her straw bonnet to the tips of her white shoes. Karola was as close to perfect as any woman on earth could be.

Close enough that there wasn’t one good reason why she should give Jakob Hirsch, who was so imperfect, another chance to win her heart. Not after all the mistakes he’d made.

But in that moment, he decided to try anyway.

The road into Shadow Creek was thick with people. They came on foot, by horseback, in wagons and buggies. The mood was cheerful, folks smiling, jesting, laughing.

Karola felt a flutter of excitement. This was her first Independence Day in her new country. It seemed anything was possible today. Anything.

“There’s Penny and Vic, Da.” Maeve waved at her young friends as Jakob drove the wagon into the shade of a tree behind the schoolhouse. “Can I go play with them?”

“If you promise to keep an eye on your brother.”

“Okay. I promise. Come on, Bernard. No, not you, Aislinn. You gotta stay here. Just the big kids get to go.”

Karola was about to reach for Aislinn when Lance swung down from his horse and held out his arms to the toddler.

“Here you go, princess.” He lifted her onto his shoulders, knocking his hat off his head in the process.

Aislinn giggled as she gripped two fists full of Lance’s hair.

Jakob hopped to the ground, picked up the hat, and held it toward Lance. “Don’t feel like you’ve got to hang around with us.”

Karola was surprised by Jakob’s rudeness, but Lance didn’t seem fazed.

“I don’t mind.” The younger man took his hat from Jakob. “I like being with all of you.” Holding onto Aislinn with one hand, he dropped his hat onto her head with the other. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

Head and shoulders having disappeared inside the large felt hat, Aislinn’s squeal of delight was muffled but unmistakable.

With admirable dexterity, Lance exchanged his horse’s bridle for a halter and removed the saddle and blanket from its back, using only his right hand while he held onto Aislinn with his left. Then he tied the horse to the back of the wagon beside the sorrel mare Jakob had brought from the farm.

Karola smiled as she watched, thinking Lance had a way with the little ones. Some day, God willing, he would be a wonderful father to his own children. She could only hope Charlotte White would make them a good mother, if she did, indeed, become Lance’s bride.

“Karola.”

She glanced down to find Jakob standing beside the wagon, arm outstretched. “Maybe we should get those pies over to Miss Joki.”

What on earth was wrong with him? He hadn’t seemed out of sorts during the drive to town. In truth, when he’d asked her if she was ever angry, she’d felt a spark of hope because it had seemed they were beginning to communicate, to really hear one another.

“Ja.”
She took hold of his proffered hand and stepped to the ground.

“Lance, would you mind keeping an eye on Aislinn while I help Karola with these pies?”

“Nope. Fine with me. Go on ahead.”

Karola didn’t need help. She could have carried the tray of pies with no trouble. But she didn’t tell Jakob that.

The town park, located across West Street from the schoolhouse, had been turned into a veritable village of booths stretching around three sides of the park. Some of the booths were filled with food or crafts, others with games to tempt adults and children alike. Triangular flags in varying sizes and colors hung from ropes stretched between booths. Delicious odors—roasted ears of corn, fried chicken, baked potatoes—filled the still, warm air. In the gazebo, the band was beginning to gather, some of the men and women warming up their instruments.

“Do you remember Gretchen Finster?” Karola asked Jakob, breaking the silence that had accompanied her and Jakob since walking away from the wagon.

He looked uncertain for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. She was that skinny girl with curly dark hair. She was engaged to Conrad Elend’s son. I’ve forgotten his name now.”

“Otto. He and Gretchen got married not long after you left.” Karola gave her head a slight shake. “Gretchen is the mother of eight and not so skinny now.”

“Eight?”

“
Ja.
Eight. All girls, including two sets of twins.”

“I can’t imagine.”

At Jakob’s smile, Karola felt a lift in her spirits.

“What made you ask if I remembered her?”

“All of this.” Karola motioned toward the booths and the people around them. “Otto took Gretchen to Munich for Okto-berfest when they were first married. She said there was a carousel and horse races and tents with lots of food and beer. She still talks about it, all these years later, especially in October. I used to dream about seeing the festival for myself, but of course, I never did.”

Jakob stopped walking, forcing Karola to do the same. His hazel eyes perused her with an unsettling intensity. Unconsciously, she pressed a hand against her collarbone, as if to steady the odd fluttering in her chest.

“We’ll have horse races,” he said, his voice low. “This afternoon. Will you cheer for me?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “
Ja,
Jakob. I will cheer for you.”

He looked as if he might say something more, but then he glanced beyond her shoulder and the hint of a scowl returned to his brow.

Karola turned to see Miss Joki marching toward them, clearly a woman on a mission.

“
There
you are, Miss Breit. Good heavens, you’re late. I was afraid you weren’t coming. And after Mrs. Gaffney insisted you bring pies for the booth.” She stopped, made an impatient motion for them to follow, then spun on her heel and marched in the opposite direction. “Come along, Mr. Hirsch. Don’t dawdle with those pies. Time is wasting.”

Charlotte and her father left their home on East Street together. Beatrice White wasn’t with them. For as long as Charlotte could remember, her mother had been sickly and much of the time was bedridden. Perhaps that was why Edgar White doted on his only child, trying to give her whatever she wished.

Charlotte adored her father in return, even if she would have preferred he engaged in a more refined profession. Still, when he was clean-shaven and his graying hair was slicked back as it was now, he appeared rather dapper for a man of forty-eight, and everyone knew his years in the smithy, pounding hot iron, had made him stronger than most men half his age.

As they made their way toward the park, her father carrying her boxed lunch for the auction, Charlotte glanced up the road leading into town.

“Looking for somebody in particular?”

“No, Daddy.”

But she was. She was looking for Lance Bishop on that black horse of his. He hadn’t been in services on Sunday, which was unlike him; he was exceedingly faithful in his church attendance. But the Hirsch family and Karola Breit had been present, so Charlotte had spent the bulk of the service staring daggers at Karola’s back.

It infuriated Charlotte every time she thought how that woman had stolen Lance’s affections. The conniving foreigner. And her an old maid, too!

“I don’t see why you’re so upset,” Emma had said yesterday. “You’ve never shown any interest in Mr. Bishop before.”

“A girl can change her mind, can’t she?”

“I don’t think you know what you want, Charlotte White. Maybe you should find out before you hurt someone, including yourself.”

Charlotte had been stunned by her best friend’s words. Why had Emma snapped at her when it was so obvious the trouble lay with that Breit woman?

“Do you know where we’re supposed to take this boxed lunch of yours?” Her father’s question brought Charlotte’s attention back to the present.

“Here, Daddy.” She stopped and held out her hands. “Let me take it. I know you’re dying to get over to the horseshoes.”

Her father grinned. “You comin’ to watch? I’ve got every intention of winning the competition again this year.”

“I’ll come a bit later. I want to find Emma first.” She returned his smile.
And I want to look for Lance, but you don’t need to
know that.

“Look who’s there, Aislinn,” Lance said to the toddler on his shoulders. “Miss White. I reckon it would be impolite if we didn’t make sure we said hello to her.”

Keeping Charlotte—decked out in her signature pink, parasol resting on her right shoulder—in view, Lance ambled across the green, pretending to see everything
but
her. Still, he knew the instant she noticed him. When he was only a few yards away, he stopped and glanced behind him.