by Lorena Dove
“There is no shame in it,” Laars said.
“The letter I wrote to you—well, I cannot yet write in English. Or read. I didn’t write the letter.”
“But it was about you, how you look, what you can do—it’s exactly right,” Laars said. “Well—everything except the truth about Rosa.”
“Yes. My good friend, Mrs. Forsythe, brought me your ad. She wrote the letter for me as I spoke. I thought she was writing everything I said. I talked of myself, yes, but also about Rosa; that she was sick, and needed a doctor. I had so many worries.
“Jo, I didn’t know,” Laars said.
“I’m sure she was just trying to make me seem more—acceptable—to you.”
Laars considered her words. In a few days’ time, she had already made his house a home with her loving presence. Her heart that so loved her daughter—this was the heart he wanted to love him. If he could even share just a bit of the love she had, he could be a happy man.
“Is that why you cried all night your first night here? You were worried about Rosa?” Laars asked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Yes, I mean, no—” Giovanna faltered. She had first compromised her honesty by allowing Mrs. Forsythe to lie about her age. Then Mrs. Forsythe had complicated everything by not writing about her worries for Rosa in her first letter. It was time to stop hiding even small things from Laars, as they had a way of making bigger problems. She had not been married long enough the first time to learn the truth of this, but she felt it with all her heart now.
“When I first arrived, I worried that you had not told me the truth. I let my fears overwhelm what my eyes could see. I was afraid I had made a mistake in coming here. And I found instead, that you didn’t know the whole truth about me. I’m sorry, Laars. I will understand if you decide that you cannot continue this marriage of false pretenses.”
“Jo—” Laars began, but no more words would come. His mind was filled with the sight of her beautiful face, its forehead smooth and eyebrows straight with no trace of guile or malice, her wide, perfect lips held parted but with no hint of a smile. And mostly, his heart was pierced by the determined look in her eyes. She was offering him to cut his losses, and in exchange giving all of herself to the plight of her child.
“I can’t,” he said.
Giovanna’s eyes twitched in a moment of disbelief, before hardening slightly. “I understand.” The kettle began to whistle and Giovanna rose to pour the hot water into a bowl to steep the willow bark.
“No, Jo. I can’t let you go,” Laars said. “I love you.”
Her eyelashes fluttered and her chin dropped, parting her beautiful lips into the hint of a smile. Could this be true?
Before she could turn away, Laars leaned down and planted a warm, gentle kiss on her lips. She let her arms reach around him as he pulled her in close. Giovanna didn’t think, didn’t stop him, didn’t do anything; she just received the love Laars offered.
In her quiet surrender, Laars felt his heart nearly burst from its chest. “You’re my wife, Jo,” he whispered. “Let me do some of the worrying now. We’ll get through this together.”
***
Giovanna carefully lifted Rosa’s head and blew on the surface of the cup to cool the tea. “Come dear, take another sip,” she said.
The warm tea dribbled a bit out of Rosa’s mouth before she was roused enough to part her lips and swallow. Laars stood at the end of the bed, gripping the iron frame with both hands as he watched for any sign of improvement.
“There, that’s the third cup,” Giovanna said.
“What do we do now?” Laars asked, hating the feeling of uselessness that engulfed him.
Footsteps sounded outside the door. “We wait,” Dr. Ledville said. He crossed the room, felt Rosa’s cheeks, and bent over and listened to her heart.
“Doctor, I must speak with you!” Laars said, beckoning him outside the room.
Laars closed the door behind them. “Dr. Ledville, you must arrange for Rosa’s placement at the hospital tomorrow. I can pay cash,” he said, patting the bulge in his front shirt pocket.
“That’s fine, Mr. Gundersen, mighty fine. Only it won’t help.” Dr. Ledville said. “The hospital is plum full up, what with consumption and chickenpox all around these parts. I couldn’t get her in if you gave me a thousand dollars!”
“Who’s going to give you a thousand dollars?” asked Giovanna, standing in the open doorway and looking at Dr. Ledville. Her eyes followed his to Laars’s face. She noticed his hand at his chest and he smiled sheepishly at her.
“Laars! I thought we couldn’t afford to—I was going to pay for it—Mrs. Pavente can give me work…” Giovanna started.
“Looks like you have a fine man to take care of you, Giovanna,” Dr. Ledville said. Truth be told, I don’t think the hospital is the best place for her now even if it had room. I’ve seen a lot of cases of consumption, but this isn’t like that. No, the little girl has scarlet fever in my opinion. The cure will come when her fever breaks. Until then, her body is fighting the poison of the illness.”
“Not consumption?” Giovanna said hopefully. Her deepest fear, that Rosa would succumb as Frank had, began to recede. “But this fever, what if it doesn’t come down?”
“She’s fought it a long time and her body is weak. If her temperature stays this high for too much longer….” His voice trailed off, unable to speak the words to Giovanna’s distraught face. “It’s been a long day. Come and wake me if anything changes. I’ll check in with you at first light.”
Giovanna stood stricken in the doorway with the water basin in her hand. “I was just going to get more cold water,” she said.
“Here, let me do that,” Laars said. His large hand covered hers and she transferred the weight of the basin to him.
Giovanna looked into his beautiful blue eyes and felt them smiling right into her soul. He blinked slowly and his lips parted into a shy grin. In all her conversations with him, Giovanna Gundersen didn’t know if she ever really took full account of her husband. His straight, broad nose was framed by wide cheeks and lines that crinkled when he smiled. His broad shoulders moved easily inside his thin cotton shirt. He would take care of her. He had said it, and he meant it.
***
Giovanna and Laars sat up all night in chairs across the bed from Rosa. Between ministrations of tea and replacing cold cloths, they shared the effort to finally relieve her of the fever. They talked quietly and even smiled a time or two. Giovanna at one point fell asleep with her head leaned back in the chair.
Laars took the chance to admire her without her seeing. He longed to hold her but knew now it would depend on whether Rosa came through. He had proven his love, but it was still too late. If Rosa dies, Giovanna may never forgive me for the delay, he thought. He despaired at the prospect of losing them both.
The first ray of sunlight turned the inky blackness to a dark purple, and soon the sky would lighten to a violet, then dark blue before the sun blazed over another light blue sky. Rosa stirred under the covers and Laars stood next to her to see whether he should wake Giovanna.
He watched her face twitch and her small tongue came out to wet her lips. He put his hand to her forehead and her lashes fluttered open.
“P-papa?” She said. The hoarse whisper barely broke the silence. Papa.
“Yes, Rosa, I’m your Papa now,” Laars whispered.
“Where’s Mama? I’m hungry,” Rosa said.
“She’s right here, asleep by your side.”
“I was having the strangest dream,” Rosa said, her dark eyes looking earnestly straight into Laars’s blue ones. He had never seen such an old soul peering at him from such a young child’s face.
“I was dreaming about Pearl,” Rosa said. “She was mewing and meowing for me, and I couldn’t find her!”
“I’m sure Pearl’s all right,” Laars said. “You must have been dreaming about the new litter of kittens I found in the barn yesterday. I’ve been waiting for you to g
et better to come home and take care of them. I thought you might like two I picked out for you, a gray one and a white calico.”
“Two kittens? Oh, Papa, can I see them now?”
Laars laughed and woke Giovanna with a start, as his deep chuckle broke the gloom of the recent days’ tension and fear.
“Laars, what—? Rosa? Are you awake?” Giovanna said as she rose to her feet.
She placed her hands on the child’s face and looked into her fully awake dark eyes and pale face. Laars held his breath until he saw the smile of joy spreading across Giovanna’s face.
“Laars, the fever has broken! My Rosa is coming back to me!”
“Our Rosa, my sweet Jo,” Laars said. He placed his hand on Giovanna’s back and reached over her to smooth a piece of Rosa’s hair. “If you’ll share her with me.”
Giovanna felt her heart would burst at the words. “Gladly, my dear Laars,” she said. “With all my heart.”
THE END
About the Sweet Land of Liberty Brides Series
This book—Book One
Giovanna: The Cowboy’s Calabrese Mail Order Bride
Book Two:
The Circuit Rider’s Rhineland Mail Order Bride Read the full, free Chapter One below!
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Thank you for reading the first book in the Sweet Land of Liberty Brides series. This series highlights the courage and travails of first-generation Americans as they brought the customs, language, religion and pride of their native countries to the open lands of the great American west. These hardy and loving people formed the backbone of the young nation as they blended lives together in America’s “melting pot.” This series is a pleasure to write and if you enjoy, please add an Amazon review to let others know.
Bonus Chapter from Natalie: The Circuit Rider’s Rhineland Mail Order Bride Chapter One | To Lose is Gain
Nathalie Luxe slipped into a dark alcove near the door of the church and slid the black kid leather glove off her right hand. She gingerly stretched her fingers and shook her wrist to get the blood flowing back through them. After hours greeting mourners who had come to pay their respects, she longed to rub her feet as well, but didn’t dare until she was able to return home.
“Herr Luxe was a great man,” a voice behind her ear whispered hoarsely. “I am sorry he has left you alone in this crowded city.”
Nathalie jumped and quickly stretched the glove back over her fingers. “Pardon me, sir, I did not see you nearby,” she replied as she offered her sore hand in greeting. “I thought the guests had all left already, Mister—?”
“Jacobson, Silas Jacobson, Miss Luxe. I’ve been your grandfather’s attorney here in New York since he arrived in ’52.”
“Mr. Jacobson. I’m sorry; I don’t recall meeting you before.”
“Your grandfather did not believe in socializing with business partners. Bad for business in case hard decisions had to be made.” Mr. Jacobson licked his dry lips then patted them with a silk handkerchief from his suit coat pocket. Nathalie watched his movements in fascination mixed with a growing unease.
“Speaking of decisions to be made, won’t you come by my office when you’re feeling refreshed, Miss Luxe? Here is my card.”
Nodding agreement, Nathalie took the card. With a flourishing bow, Mr. Jacobson glanced around and quietly slid out the large wooden door, blinking at the light of day before disappearing into the crowds on the sidewalk.
She stared after the strange man and then looked down at his card. “Are you quite well, Fraulein?” came a gentle voice.
“Yes, I’m well,” Nathalie said as she tucked the card into her sleeve. “Are we finished then? Is there anyone to left to greet?”
“No, Fraulein. It’s time you went home and rested. You will trust old Gadsen now, won’t you? Your grandfather did all these years.”
Nathalie smiled at the kind valet she had known since she left her home on the Rhine River in 1881 to live with her grandfather in New York. “Yes, Gadsen. Only you must rest, too. This last month has been hard on both of us.”
Gadsen offered his arm, and Nathalie put her gloved hand through the crook of his elbow. Smiling down at her, he patted her hand. “Some hot tea, a bath and to bed, then,” Gadsen said. “It’s the best medicine I know.”
***
Nathalie woke before dawn, having slept a dreamless sleep. For a moment she nearly jumped up to check on her grandfather’s progress through the night; but no, he was gone, and she didn’t need to get up.
Herr Benjamin Luxe was the last living member of her family, and despite his gruff outward appearance, he had been a kind and loving father figure to Nathalie.
Lying there in bed, Nathalie let her mind wander through memories she had long suppressed. She could not remember her mother, although her father told Nathalie sweet tales of her. After her death, Nathalie’s father had left her with her maternal Oma Dwiger, while he moped about Europe for seven years. Having run out of money, he finally acquiesced to join his father in business in New York. The long trip on the ocean liner had been exciting for the young girl of nine, right up until the moment her father crept out of their stateroom one night and disappeared.
A crewman saw someone climb the back rail of the ship and stand looking down at the water. Before he could yell out, the young Herr Luxe quietly jumped to his death in the sea. He had waited until the lights of New York were in sight.
“My dear Nathalie: Please forgive me,” read her father’s final note. “I find I have no appetite for life in a new world without my true love, your departed mother. One day I hope you find a love such as mine; but let it never break your heart.”
He left the note along with her mother’s pearl necklace in a box next to her bed. Nathalie was gifted them by the captain as he handed her over to her grandfather the next day.
“Don’t think badly of him, little Fraulein,” the captain said. “Leave that to me—I’d like to ring his neck myself for this cowardly act. But I know something of love, and despair. See to it that you strengthen your heart. Your father’s kind doesn’t stand a chance against the fates.”
Herr Luxe had been shocked but resigned to hear of his son’s unseemly demise. He counted it a blessing that no one in his circles in New York had met the man; all the better to concoct a different story to keep the scandal from tarnishing his business interests.
“Now Nathalie, you will feel better tomorrow, for nothing dries sooner than tears,” he had told her with a grim face but a gentle voice. “We’ll speak of him in private if you like, but what’s done is done. You’ll find plenty of playmates to keep you company at school, and you can come visit me in the store any time.”
The image of her father’s dark, sad eyes morphed into the twinkling blue eyes of her grandfather in her mind. It occurred to her that she was sad enough at her grandfather’s passing that she could cry; she just didn’t remember how.
She reached next to her bed, pulled the cord for tea, and sunk back down covering her head with the fine linen sheet.
In a few minutes, Gadsen came in carrying a tray. “Good morning, Fraulein,” he said. He set the tray on the table at the end of her bed and went to open the curtains at her window. “I’m sorry Mrs. Porter isn’t here to bring your breakfast. Seems some of the staff have taken a holiday.”
Gadsen’s dry observation belied the truth, and he haltingly told her the news. Mr. Jacobson had come by that morning and laid off the staff, including him. But Delphineus Gadsen wasn’t going anywhere; indeed, he had nowhere to go. His duty to the family was stronger than a temporary layoff with no pay; it would all get straightened out when Nathalie had a chance to meet with Mr. Jacobson.
Nathalie sat bolt upright in bed, her hazel eyes flashing. She held the sheet and coverlet close to her neck, but her long blond hair lay tousled across her forearms and down to her lap.
“Laid off? By what right does Mr. Jacobson have to come here and speak to Grandfather�
�s—um, my—employees, much less lay them off?” Nathalie’s sense of justice, once sparked, was like a slow burning fire that could only be dowsed when the wrong was corrected.
“I’ll just see about that,” she said and started to scramble out of bed. “Whoops! Gadsen!”
Speaking with averted eyes was a natural skill of Gadsen’s, honed from years of studied ignorance of Herr Luxe’s excesses and improprieties. But seeing the new mistress of the house about to jump out of bed in her nightgown was too much even for him.
“Excuse me, Fraulein, pardon me,” he said, bowing with eyes near closed as he fumbled for the door handle. “I’ll just be leaving now…”
Her lilting laughter followed him into the hallway, where he stood to catch his breath as he leaned against the closed door. First thing to do is see about getting Mrs. Porter back, Gadsen thought as he lumbered away to the kitchen.
***
The crisis at hand cleared Nathalie’s mind completely from her earlier foray into sentimental memories. Yet the kind words of her Oma Dwiger kept flashing through her mind. In this life, you will have trials, my child. The only thing that can defeat you is loss of will. Take courage and never give up! She sat at the dressing table to brush her hair, and wondered again if she looked like her mother. She expertly parted it into sections, and soon had a neat braid going halfway down her back. She wound it into a halo around her head, pinned it in place, quickly tied on her bonnet and slipped on her shoes.
She bolted down the stairs, through the empty house and out the door onto the street. With Mr. Jacobson’s card in her hand, she hailed a passing driver and climbed into the carriage for the ride downtown.
S. Jacobson, Esq., read the sign outside the building, and Nathalie marched in to her appointment with her grandfather’s lawyer.
“Right on time, I see,” said the sniveling man. “Come in, come in.” Shoving some papers off a leather chair in front of his imposing desk, Silas Jacobson shuffled around to his chair and put his hands atop his desk, looking at her over top of his glasses.
“Mr. Jacobson, sir, I’ve come to enquire how it is that you laid off my grandfather’s household staff this morning. Am I not to be informed of these affairs?”