But Frederich hadn’t wanted to wait any longer for William’s Leichenbier. The war was over, and whether Beata’s marriage prospect had returned or not, it was time for him to keep his word.
The Robert Burns began again, this time to the accompaniment of sawing and chopping. Caroline smiled to herself, both at the recitation and at the notion that Beata might soon be Avery’s wife. Poor Avery—and poor Beata, too. How suited they were for each other. She must remind herself not to enjoy their comeuppance so.
She shifted little William Gustav on her shoulder. He was fed and fast asleep and she needed some place to put him down. She could see Frederich coming with another log, skillfully cajoling old Koenig along as he had always been able to do. He limped still, but there was no doubt that he made her heart flutter. She watched him fondly, smiling a bit when John Steigermann suddenly intercepted him, patting him heartily on the back and shaking his hand. Johann and several of the others followed suit—veterans of Company “K” and the 5th North Carolina Regiment. Jacob Goodman brought him a dipperful of cider and cheered him while he drained it.
Frederich saw her then and began to walk toward her, smiling broadly at whatever they called after him and boldly kissing her and the baby when he reached her—in spite of the crowd.
“What was that all about?” she asked, because the men were still looking in their direction and they all grinned and waved.
“Company ‘K’ has always enjoyed its cider,” he said, kissing her again.
“And Robert Burns,” she said, a bit taken aback by his display of affection. Frederich Graeber was a private man— except today. Today, he was feeling their great good fortune, she suddenly realized. He had survived, and so had their precarious love for each other. They had only to look around them to know how truly blessed they were.
He looked at her blankly.
“The poem—it’s Robert Burns,” she said.
“Robert Burns to you—a way to keep a bunch of German plowboys with two left feet in step to me.”
“You drilled them to Robert Burns?”
“All the time. It was something Avery started—to annoy Gerhardt, I think. It worked very well—I’m just glad ‘The Lass Who Made the Bed to Me’ hasn’t come to mind— Beata will be out here cracking heads with her broom. You should have seen William when we marked cadence to that one—his ears would turn a fiery red. Where are the girls?”
“Helping Beata in the kitchen—they must be doing well. I don’t think she’s thrown things a single time. We’ll be ready to eat soon…” She stopped because he wasn’t listening. He was grinning over his shoulder again at the still laughing John Steigermann and the others.
“What is so funny?” she said.
“Nothing,” her much too innocent husband informed her.
“Frederich, why are they staring like that? I want to know what is going on?”
“It’s nothing—”
“It is something—”
“John Steigermann just noticed you were carrying again, that’s all.”
“Well, there is nothing funny in that,” she assured him.
“He gave me his congratulations—because here you have one on your hip and one coming, and he just wondered if I had any idea what was causing all these babes.”
“And you said?”
“Nothing much—”
“Frederich, what? What did you say!”
He grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, I said I knew what was causing them—but you didn’t!”
* * * * *
Author Note
Like The Prisoner, this novel is based upon an obscure bit of local history, one especially interesting to me because it occurred in the community of my mother’s German forebears, who had emigrated into Piedmont, North Carolina from the Palatinate of Germany via Pennsylvania in the 1700s.
This particular incident came to light as a result of a high school class assignment that required each of us to search old church records for the “human element.” The terse account was simply this: At the end of a Sunday service, a man publicly and inexplicably withdrew his pledge of marriage to a woman of the congregation. The pastor then asked if someone else would be willing to marry her. Another man stood and said, “I will.”
Now what in the world was that all about? I wondered. I was hopelessly intrigued, and nothing would do but that I eventually create my own version of the occurrence, the “before” and the “after.” The fact that two of the old German churches and several of the early houses still exist in the area brought about an acute sense of place. My choice of a time for all this to happen was sparked by my empathy for my own great-great-grandmother, Catherine, who made the frantic trip to Richmond in 1864 to be with her wounded soldier husband, but who arrived too late.
I also used music to enhance a nineteenth-century mindset—the original soundtrack of Ken Burns’s The Civil War and Rivers of Delight: American Folk Hymns of the Sacred Harp Tradition by the Word of Mouth Chorus, particularly the poignant rendition of “Parting Friends.”
eISBN 978-14592-7529-4
THE BARTERED BRIDE
Copyright © 1996 by Cheryl Reavis.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, Including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any Information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the Imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly Inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books SA
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks Indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Printed In U.S.A.
Cheryl Reavis Page 32