A Bride's Sweet Surprise in Sauers, Indiana

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A Bride's Sweet Surprise in Sauers, Indiana Page 3

by Ramona K. Cecil


  She shivered, remembering the angry look on the bull’s face. Countless times she had taken that same shortcut from the barn to the house without any such mishap. But in her desperation to keep Papa from discovering her and Eli together in the barn, she hadn’t considered that the rain had turned the barn lot into one huge mud puddle.

  She scowled at a sliver of straw turning lazy circles atop the scummy surface of the water. It was all Papa’s fault. If Eli were allowed to court her in the open instead of having to sneak around and surprise her in the barn like he did today, she wouldn’t be sitting in the bathtub in the middle of the week washing off unspeakable filth. She wouldn’t have had to disappoint Eli by missing the Dudleytown box supper last Saturday. She also wouldn’t have had to tell him of Papa’s plans to marry her off to a stranger. She had expected Eli to be unhappy and perhaps even angry at her news. But she hadn’t expected him to demand she elope with him right away.

  She sighed. For the past week, she had prayed for God to deliver her from the plans Papa and Herr Rothhaus were making for her future. And though a part of her longed to give in to Eli’s demands, she couldn’t believe God would want her to run away without a word to her parents. Such an impulsive action would doubtless break their hearts. Perhaps that was why God hadn’t allowed her to give Eli an answer. For at that moment they’d heard the sound of a wagon approaching. Sure that Papa had returned from his trip to Dudleytown, she had instructed Eli to hide in the barn until the wagon was out of sight while she headed to the house through the barn lot.

  She ran the glob of soap over her wet hair, working up a lather. On the other hand, by not leaving with Eli, she may have missed a window of escape God had opened for an instant. At least then she wouldn’t be trapped in her upstairs bedroom, washing off barnyard muck in preparation for meeting the man Papa had chosen to be her future husband.

  At the thought, her cheeks tingled with warmth. In truth, she may have already met him. Diedrich Rothhaus . Was it possible that the man with the strong arms and kind gray eyes was the one to whom Papa had promised her? Her heart did an odd hop. For days now, she had dreaded his coming. Nearly every night she drenched her pillow with her tears, praying that God would cause the man to decide to stay in Baltimore or Cincinnati—anywhere but here in Sauers.

  The fractured memory of her rescuer flashed again in her mind. She tried to assemble the bits and pieces into a clear picture, but they refused to come into focus. Yet she knew without a doubt that the man she had left covered in mud at the back door did not fit the picture of the Diedrich Rothhaus she had conjured up in her apprehensive imaginings. But of one thing she was sure. The stranger who had carried her to the house spoke German.

  “Du bist jetzt sicher.” Yes. The words he had spoken so gently, assuring her of her safety, were not English words but German.

  The door opened a crack and Mama slipped into the room with Regina’s best dress draped over her arm. Her face, pruned up in a look of dismay, did not bode well for Regina. “I have brought your Sunday frock.” Her voice held the stiff tone that always preceded a scolding.

  Laying the dress and a bundle of small clothes on Regina’s bed, she stepped to the side of the tub and shook her head. “I still cannot imagine what you were doing in that barn lot. You know how muddy it gets when it rains. And how many times has your Vater warned you to stay away from that bull? I cannot bear to think what might have happened if Stark had got to you.” Her voice cracked with emotion, smiting Regina with remorse. “I thank Gott He sent that brave young man to save you.” She pulled the ever-present handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her watery eyes. “If not for Diedrich Rothhaus, we might be having a funeral instead of planning a wedding.”

  Regina groaned inwardly. So the man who rescued her was the man Papa had chosen for her husband. Her pulse quickened, but she forced her attention back to her mother, who, though stronger than most women Regina knew, did tend to be overemotional at times. “It is sorry I am, Mama. I did not think—”

  “And you are usually such a thoughtful Mädchen.” Shaking her head, Mama sniffed back tears, obviously not finished with her rant. “And as thankful as I am that young Rothhaus was there to get you away from the bull, how embarrassing that the first time your intended sets eyes on you, you are covered in mud!” She shook her head again and pressed her hand to her chest. “When I told your Vater what happened, I thought he would collapse right there in the kitchen. And he might have, but he did not wish to embarrass our family any further in front of Diedrich and Herr Rothhaus.”

  Diedrich. If only she could form a clear image of him in her mind. But it didn’t matter what he looked like, or even that he had rescued her. The question remained—who would rescue her from him?

  Mama helped Regina out of the tub and wrapped her in a cotton towel. “Poor Diedrich,” her lamentations continued. “By the time he handed you to me, he was nearly as muddy as you were. Your Vater is helping him to wash and change into the spare set of clothes he brought with him.” As Mama’s voice grew more frustrated, she rubbed the towel over Regina’s skin harder than necessary.

  “Ouch!” Regina snatched the towel from her mother’s grasp and stepped away. When would Mama and Papa stop treating her like a child? “I’m not a Kind , Mama. I can dry myself.” At the hurt look on Mama’s face, guilt nipped at Regina’s conscience. Mama meant well, and besides embarrassing her and Papa in front of the Rothhauses, Regina had given her parents a terrible fright. She sighed, and her tone reflected her penance. “I am sorry I fell in the mud and what’s-his-name had to pull me out.” Though by now Regina knew the man’s given name as well as her own, she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “But I am not the one who asked him to come. And as I have been telling you and Papa for the past week, I do not want to get married! Especially to someone I have never met.”

  Mama cocked her head. Some of her earlier anger seemed to seep away, and she gave Regina a caring, indulgent smile. “I know this is happening very fast for you, Regina. But you know that your Vater and I want the best for you, and the Rothhauses are good people. Once you get used to the idea, I am sure you will be happy.” Her smile turned to a teasing grin. “After all, you must marry someone, and Diedrich is very handsome. And he must have a brave and good heart to have gone in there with that bull to carry you to safety.”

  Or he is just very stupid . Regina decided to keep that thought to herself as she stepped into her bloomers and pulled her petticoats over her head.

  Mama walked to the dresser and picked up Regina’s hairbrush. “Do you want me to brush and plait your hair? We want to show your intended and his Vater how very pretty you are when you are clean.”

  Mama might as well have run her fingernails across a slate board for the way her comment sent irritation rasping down Regina’s spine. The thought of parading in front of Diedrich Rothhaus like a mare he considered buying was beyond irksome. But at the same time, Mama’s words planted the seed of a plan in Regina’s mind. A plan that nurtured a tiny glimmer of hope inside her. Perhaps falling in the mud was not such a bad thing. Maybe it was part of God’s plan to rescue her from a loveless marriage.

  Regina put on her Sunday best dress of sky-blue linen and fastened the mother-of-pearl buttons that marched down its front. “Danke , Mama, but no.” She gave her mother the sweetest smile she could muster. “I am sure you have things to do in the kitchen. I will be down to help you in a few minutes.”

  Tears glistened in Mama’s eyes as she gazed at Regina. “What a beauty you are, liebes Mädchen. She hugged Regina and kissed her on top of her damp head, sending a squiggle of shame through Regina. “I would not be surprised if Diedrich Rothhaus insisted on setting the wedding date within the month.”

  Instead of bringing comfort, the compliment ignited a flash of panic in Regina. Dear Lord, give me time to convince Diedrich Rothhaus that I am not someone he would want to marry . As Mama left the room, closing the door behind her, Regina sent up her frantic prayer. Th
en she calmed herself with thoughts of her budding plan designed to thwart the life-changing one her parents had foisted on her.

  Gazing into her dresser mirror, she watched her brows slip down into a determined frown. If Diedrich Rothhaus refused to marry her after all the money Papa had spent to bring him and Herr Rothhaus here from Venne, surely Papa would relent and let her marry Eli or whomever she chose. All she had to do was make herself repugnant to Diedrich Rothhaus.

  She plaited her damp hair into two long braids. But as she brought them up to attach them to the top of her head as she normally did, she paused. Instead, she tied the ends of each with a blue ribbon as she used to do when a child, letting them dangle on her shoulders. She might as well put her plan into action immediately. Young Herr Rothhaus would doubtless find a girl who looked twelve far less appealing than one who looked Regina’s age of seventeen.

  Diedrich splashed tepid water from the tin dishpan onto his face, rinsing off the lye soap. Herr Seitz had brought him into this long narrow room between the back door and the kitchen to wash up before taking Father on a tour of the farm.

  With his eyes scrunched shut against the stinging water and soap, he reached for the cotton towel Frau Seitz had left for him on the side of the washstand. He couldn’t get his mind off the girl he’d carried to safety little more than a half hour earlier. Behind his closed eyelids, he saw again her big blue eyes wild with fear, shining from her mud-covered face. The face of his future wife? Though the image that lingered in his mind could not be called attractive, it was more than compelling. Something about the look in her eyes had made him want to protect her, reassure her.

  Burying his face in the towel, he scrubbed, as if to scrub the image from his mind. He must be daft. Did he want to end up like his brothers, growing old before his time trying to eke out a living farming with too many hungry mouths to feed? No. He hadn’t come all the way to America to become snared in the same trap into which his brothers had fallen before him. He must stick to his plan and let nothing—not even a pair of large, helpless blue eyes—distract him from reaching the California goldfields and the riches waiting there for him.

  He dipped a scrap of cotton cloth into the tin basin of water and washed off the mud that still clung to his hands and arms. At the pressure of the cloth on his skin, he felt again the soft curves of the girl’s body in his arms. She had fit as if she belonged there. Despite the cool spring air that prickled the skin of his bare torso, heat marched up his neck to suffuse his face.

  At a creaking sound on the stairwell to his left, followed by what sounded like a sharp intake of air, Diedrich turned. What he saw snatched the breath from his lungs as if Alois, the strongest man in their village, had punched him in the stomach. The prettiest girl he’d ever seen stood as if frozen three steps from the landing. Her hair, the color of ripe wheat, hung in two braids on her shoulders. They made her look younger than her obvious years. But there was nothing childlike about her gently curved figure. Her blue frock matched her bright blue eyes, which were at least as big and round as Diedrich remembered from the barn lot and seemed to grow larger by the second. Her pink lips, which reminded him of a rosebud, formed an O.

  It suddenly struck Diedrich that he was standing before her shirtless. Glancing down, he watched a bead of water meander down his bare chest to his stomach. He snatched his waiting clean shirt from a peg on the wall beside the washstand and held it against him to cover his bare chest. He opened his mouth to utter a greeting, but his throat had gone dry and nothing came out. He cleared his throat. Twice. Had he lost all his senses? She was just a girl. Regina . For months he had tried to fashion an image to attach to the name. But nothing he had ever envisioned approached the loveliness of the girl before him.

  She remained still and mute. Fearing she might fly back up the stairs, he tried again to speak. This time he found his voice. “Are you all right?”

  “Ja. Danke.” She finally stepped down to the floor, though she stayed close to the stair rail as if to keep maximum distance between them. “Thank you for helping me … out of the mud.” Though she spoke with a hint of an American accent, her German was flawless.

  “Bitte sehr . I am glad you were not hurt. Forgive me.” Turning away from her, he hurriedly shrugged on his shirt and began buttoning it up, praying she would still be there when he turned back around. She was.

  “I am Regina.” Unsmiling, she took a couple of halting steps toward him.

  “I am Diedrich. Diedrich Rothhaus.” Without thinking, he reached out his hand to her.

  In a tentative movement, she reached out a delicate-looking hand that ended in long, tapered fingers and touched his palm, sending tingles up his arm to his shoulder. An instant later, she drew back her hand as if she’d touched a hot stove. Looking past his shoulder, she glanced out the open door behind him. “Papa and Herr Rothhaus are back from looking at the farm. You may join them outside until Mama and I call you for dinner.”

  She slipped past him and headed for the kitchen, leaving him feeling deflated. Not once had she smiled, and no hint of warmth had softened her icy tone. Instead, her stilted voice had felt like a glass of cold water thrown in his face.

  Fully revived from the odd trance that had gripped him at first sight of her, Diedrich gazed at the spot where her appealing figure had disappeared. As beguiling as her face and form, Regina Seitz was an enchantress chiseled from ice. His resolve to find a way out of this arranged marriage solidified. And if his prospective bride’s chilly reaction to him was any indication of her feelings in the matter, obtaining his goal might not be as difficult as he’d feared.

  Stepping outside, Diedrich headed to the relatively dry spot in the lane where Father and Herr Seitz stood talking and laughing.

  “Ah, there you are, mein Junge.” Herr Seitz clapped Diedrich on the shoulder, his round face beaming. “I was telling your Vater, I have wunderbare news. On my way back from Dudleytown, I met Pastor Sauer on the road and told him about you and my Regina. He is looking forward to meeting you and Herr Rothhaus and will be happy to perform the marriage whenever we like.”

  Chapter 4

  R egina looked down at her plate of fried rabbit, boiled potatoes, and dandelion greens and fought nausea. Not because of the food on her plate, which she normally loved, but from Papa’s enthusiastic conversation with Herr Rothhaus speculating on the earliest possible date for her wedding.

  “By the end of May, we should have the planting done.” Papa wiped milk from his thick blond mustache that had lately begun to show touches of gray. “The first Sunday in June, I think, would be a fine time for the wedding.”

  June? Regina’s stomach turned over. Unless she could think of a way out of it, in six weeks she would be marrying the stranger sitting across the table from her. She looked up at Diedrich, who sat toying with his food. Did the alarmed look that flashed in his eyes suggest he shared her feelings about their coming nuptials? Her budding hope withered. More likely he found the date disappointingly remote.

  “Ja.” Herr Rothhaus nodded from across the table, a boiled potato poised on the twin tines of his fork. His face turned somber and his gray eyes, so like his son’s, took on a watery look. “Mein Sohn and I owe you and Frau Seitz much.” His voice turned thick with emotion, and he popped the potato into his mouth.

  Papa clapped the man on the shoulder. “Happy we are that you and your fine son are finally here, mein Freund . Over the last three months, I have said many prayers for your safe passage.” He brightened. “And this Sunday, I shall ask Pastor Sauer to lead the whole congregation in a prayer of thanks for your safe arrival.” Then he turned his attention to Regina, and his smile drooped into a disapproving frown—one of many he’d given her since they all sat down for supper. “Again, it is sorry I am that you came all the way across the ocean to see our Regina, and she is covered in mud.”

  Regina groaned inwardly. Did Papa have to keep bringing it up? And how many times did he expect her to apologize for embarrassing herse
lf in front of the two men? Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she caught the hint of a grin on Diedrich’s lips, but at that moment he lifted his cup to his mouth and took a sip of milk, covering his expression.

  Mama turned to her, and in the same coaxing voice she used to speak to Regina’s two-year-old nephew, Henry, said, “Regina, perhaps you would like to ask Diedrich about his voyage?” She rolled her eyes in Diedrich’s direction, her expectant look conveying both a summons and a warning.

  Regina sat in mute defiance. There may be nothing she could do to stop her parents from forcing her into a marriage with this Diedrich Rothhaus, but they couldn’t make her like it. And they couldn’t make her talk to him.

  At her reticence, Papa leveled a stern look at her and in a lowered voice that held an ominous tone said, “Regina.”

  Diedrich’s glance bounced between Papa and Mama, but then his gaze lit softly on Regina’s face like a gray mourning dove on a delicate branch. “A rough winter crossing, it was. But thanks be to Gott, the Franziska , she is a sturdy bark with a crew brave and skilled.”

  Regina hated that Diedrich had come to her rescue once again. Even worse, she hated how her gaze refused to leave his. And how his deep, gentle voice soothed her like the caress of a velvet glove.

 

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