by Amber Miller
“Mr. Ridgely, I do appreciate your taking the time to call on me and share our meal,” she said. “Will you have another cookie?”
“Oh, n–no, thank you, Miss Strattford. It has been my pleasure.” He was clearly smitten, devouring Raelene with his gaze as if she were the dessert.
She offered a patronizing smile as she folded her hands in her apron. “I apologize for my haste to end our visit, but as I am certain you are aware, harvesttime will be here before we know it. Much remains to be done, and I have many obligations to meet by harvest’s end.”
Nicholas made no attempt to conceal his disappointment, but he graciously stood and assisted Raelene to her feet. “I understand completely, miss, though I am stricken w–with regret.” He offered a stiff bow, leg extended. Then they walked to the barn, where he clumsily mounted his horse. “I hope to call again s–soon.”
“Perhaps when time permits, sir,” Raelene responded with a gracious, if somewhat shallow, smile. As though mesmerized, she watched the man ride down the lane toward the main road.
Gustaf wedged the ax in the chopping block, waiting for Raelene to turn toward him or offer him one of the cookies. She didn’t. Without warning, she gathered her petticoats in her hands and took off across the field instead. Before she was out of hearing range, a sob escaped her lips, tearing at Gustaf’s heart.
Gustaf debated whether to follow her. So much had been thrust upon her young and delicate shoulders, and she’d borne it with grace. . .until now. As much as he wanted to run after her, perhaps she needed time to be alone.
Lord, be with her. The seemingly constant knot within his chest tightened as the prayer went up. Help us both.
❧
Raelene was breathless when she reached the orchard, her despair now nothing more than ragged gasps for air. What more would she have to endure before she lost her mind? As mannerly as Mr. Ridgely was, his stutter had been more than Raelene could handle. Her attention continually shifted toward Gustaf as he chopped the wood, admiring how he swung the ax with seemingly little effort. She couldn’t help but compare Mr. Ridgely to Gustaf, and found Ridgely sorely lacking.
Once he departed, it was all she could do not to run to Gustaf in her exasperation, but she’d had to run somewhere. The orchard was one of her favorite refuges in times past, times when her distress paled in comparison to what she felt now.
Raelene’s mind drifted back to when she and Mother had seen the variety of peach, cherry, and apple trees upon first purchasing the farm. They had been neglected and in need of restoration, a task with results that would make the toil worthwhile. The sweet scent of apples that had filled Raelene’s nostrils had been the reason they’d chosen the area nearby to build.
With her knees to her chest and arms draped around her legs, Raelene dropped her head to her knees and sobbed beneath a cherry tree. She wanted to go back in time, back to childhood upsets, away from today’s unbearable trial. The sound of a whinny from the fence adjacent to the orchard invaded her tortured thoughts. Raelene raised her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. Valdig. The horse had always been able to sense her mood. And he’d always been her confidant when she needed to talk out her dilemmas without censure, such as her longing for the life she’d left behind in England.
Valdig raised and dropped his head as if to say he remembered, too. It had been an extraneous expense to bring Valdig and Jägar with them on the ship, but Papa knew she couldn’t bear to be away from them. He’d treasured his Jägar as much as she did Valdig. She’d fed them both treats of dried fruit and grain and spent a lot of days with them below deck—especially during storms. With a sniff, Raelene climbed to her feet and started toward the gelding.
“Oh, Valdig, remember when we lived in England? I took you for long rides through the countryside and dreamed of owning a small cottage on a simple estate. My cousins and I attended grand parties and delighted in all that English society has to offer.” She spread her arms wide. “Now look at us. Left alone on this farm with no family and too far away from civilized noblemen and ladies for any social affairs to be remotely possible.”
Stroking the white blaze between his eyes, she placed her other hand beneath his head and drew his face toward hers.
“A single person should not have to face this many hardships in less than a year.”
“Maybe this trial has purpose.”
Gustaf’s words made her startle, which in turn startled the horse. Unlike Valdig, she did not recover her calm quickly, especially when the masculine scent of sweat, evidence of his hard labor, assailed her nose.
“Ingenting är så dålig så pass vi kan icke lära mycket av det,” Gustaf quoted, his familiar accent that had once annoyed her now reminding her of Mother.
“Nothing is so bad that we cannot learn much from it.”
Tears sprang to her eyes even as Father’s words echoed in her mind: “You must remain strong.”
Raelene sniffled, lamenting that she’d forgotten to put a handkerchief in her apron that morning. To her dismay, Gustaf produced a fresh one, although how he’d managed to keep it clean, she didn’t know. Awkwardly, she accepted it, turning away in embarrassment as she dabbed at her eyes. A branch rustled behind her, followed by the snap of an early cherry being picked off the tree.
“Everything can look bad, but if you try to do the best with what you are given, the situation gets better.”
She spun in challenge. “How—” To her frustration, she hiccuped with emotion. “How can you say something like that?”
“Because from big fights come big blessings.” He held out the cherry in front of her. “This cherry tree suffers through wind, rain, snow, and ice. It has a time of winter with empty branches. But every year, it gives fruit.”
Raelene took the cherry and rolled it back and forth in her palm. “I suppose you will now find some way to connect this analogy once more to God and tell me that He employs the world around me to show it’s possible to persevere and prosper despite hardship.”
He clenched his jaw. “If you would take your nose from air and look at the world where you live, you would see your great blessings.” He turned in a half circle with arms spread wide, then stopped and faced her once again, his expression one of sorrow mixed with contempt. “But you judge all people you meet. You put them on one side of a scale with your life in England on the other side. That is a life you cannot have right now.”
“You accuse me of being judgmental?” Raelene ranted. “If you would cease these attempts to force me into seeing life the way you do or having faith in God, who chooses to ignore heartfelt pleas, we wouldn’t have to endure these worrisome confrontations.” She pursed her lips as she beheld him from head to toe then back again. “But how could I expect you to understand?”
“Getting angry at me and others who help you, Raelene, will make you more unhappy. If you continue in your haughty ways, you will have no one left.” He pivoted on his heel. “Good day!”
Raelene groaned as she watched Gustaf’s retreat. What was it about the man that brought out the worst in her? It was just as well that her parents were not present to see what their daughter had become.
But he had insulted her just as much. Haughty ways, indeed. She wasn’t haughty; she was frightened and desperate. If anyone should apologize, he should, for bullying her. The only way she’d apologize was if he did.
In the meantime, there were weeds to pull and fruit to gather. She’d promised baskets of cherries and future fruits to several women for pies and other treats. That was not haughty. That was being a good neighbor. The man was delusional.
❧
As dusk fell, Raelene stored the fruit baskets in the shade of the oak near the back door. She would deliver them tomorrow. As she started inside to retire for the evening, footsteps clumped on the dirt path between the house and the barn. Gustaf. Had he return
ed to deliver more insults?
“May I speak with you, Miss Strattford?”
At least the anger that had raged in his voice earlier was gone. Raelene watched him warily. “You have my complete attention, Mr. Hanssen.”
Gustaf removed his felt hat and twisted it between his hands. “I apologize for my words this afternoon. I have been a bad example of a true believer in God Almighty.” He avoided meeting her gaze as he continued. “I should show humility, but I show impatience and no control. I judged you, too. God forbid that be me.”
Raelene shifted uneasily, recalling her vow not to apologize until Gustaf did. And now that he had. . .
“Mr. Hanssen, I—”
“You have a right to be angry with me,” he said, cutting her off. “But I acted as I did because I care about you.”
Raelene’s heart fluttered.
“Your soul, I mean.”
Then fell back in disappointment to its normal rhythm. But when Gustaf raised his head at her stunned silence, the sincerity in his eyes started the flutter once more. Before she could recover, he slapped on his hat and returned to the barn.
Shame found its voice, reminding her that she’d not apologized for her own rash words. Gustaf was right. She did compare everything and everyone in this horrid place to England. Raelene cast a guilty look at the barn and freshly planted fields beyond, a barn raised and fields planted by her neighbors. Common folk, but good people. People like Gustaf.
Gustaf was wrong, so wrong. Between the two of them, her actions and words had been far worse.
Raelene walked toward the barn. She would apologize. Not about her feelings toward God and Gustaf’s insistence on browbeating her with his faith. But she would admit that she’d wronged him and her neighbors by comparing them to her English acquaintances. But for them, she and her promise to her parents would be lost.
Eleven
June gave way to July, then August, and ushered in the highest heat of the summer. Raelene couldn’t believe the height the corn had grown or the plentiful bounty of the beans.
It’s actually happening! Mama and Papa’s dreams are being realized.
She owed so much of the success to Gustaf. But every time he made her grateful for his help, he’d ruin it by mentioning God. The man and God were inseparable.
Raelene moved up and down the rows of mounds and jerked free the offending weeds wherever they tried to take root. It seemed like only yesterday when the stalks had brushed against her skirts. Now the crop towered over her. Never had she thought she’d feel this much pride in seeing the fruits of her labors from simple farming.
Gustaf had been right. Learning to farm did take a lot of time, and he’d been a patient teacher. Not that she deserved his patience. Even when he lost his temper because of something she said—and that seemed to be the only time he was able to reveal his true feelings—he always apologized, accepting full blame when it was not all his.
Raelene continued toward the wheat and ran her hands over the soft grains. They tickled her skin, making her feel so lighthearted, a giggle burst forth. She immediately covered her mouth as she sought out Gustaf, who was too far away to have noticed. What would he think if he saw her now? Like a child, she wanted to run through the fields, tossing her cares to the wind. She hadn’t felt this good in months.
Gustaf’s words interrupted her thoughts: “If you would take your nose from the air and look at the world in which you live, you would see your great blessings.”
Those weren’t his exact words, but the truth in them remained. She had been taking this farm and her privileged life in England for granted. Working with Mama hadn’t been this difficult or exhausting, nor was it quite as rewarding.
“Do you walk alone, or can I come, too?”
Raelene started at Kaariana’s voice and squealed as she ran to embrace her friend. It seemed like months since the young woman had visited.
“How long have you been standing there? And what brings you out this way? Is everything all right with your family?”
Kaariana placed both hands on Raelene’s arms. “Everything is good. I come here to see you and see Mr. Hanssen. So I talk with him. Now I talk with you. And I have exciting news.”
Her stilted speech betrayed her heritage. Kaariana’s family had been among the first Dutch settlers of this area, and while their accent had faded somewhat, their speech patterns had not. Life had not been easy for Kaariana or her kin. But today, light shone from her eyes, and a glow not caused by the sun made her cheeks a rosy pink.
“Please do not force me to wait another second. I rarely receive a letter from my cousins in England, and the farm has kept me so busy, it’s been more than a month since I’ve been to town. News would be quite welcome.”
“I wonder why I not see you.” Kaariana spun in a circle, her impish face raised to the sky. “We had such fun counting number of times Reverend Dalton would push back his wig from his excited preaching.”
Frustrated by the obvious delay, Raelene stomped a foot and crossed her arms. “You’re being absolutely merciless.”
Kaariana quirked an eyebrow. “Oh! You wish to hear my good news, no?”
“As if there is any doubt.”
Her friend leaned forward, and Raelene mirrored the pose.
“Jurien come to call yesterday afternoon, and my father say we can marry!”
Raelene straightened so fast, she nearly knocked heads with Kaariana. “Oh, that is wonderful!”
“He finally has a home for us and not want to wait. We will be wed on Sunday. Say you will come.”
Sunday. That meant she would be obliged to also attend service at the town parish. Then the wedding. Would she be able to bear being in God’s house for that long?
“You have bad thoughts? There is frown on your face.”
The concern lacing Kaariana’s questions gave Raelene pause. She had almost snuffed out her friend’s happiness with her selfishness. How could she not attend the wedding of a friend who’d cheered her on more than one visit, not to mention helped shoulder some of the farm work?
Trying to grab hold of the joy she’d felt moments before, Raelene clasped her friend’s hands. “Forgive me. I allowed my thoughts to drift toward an unpleasantness.” She hoped her eyes didn’t betray her inner struggle. “Of course I’ll come celebrate with you. Nothing would please me more.”
Kaariana embraced her again. “Wonderful.” She wrapped an arm loosely at Raelene’s waist. “Now, we go back to the house for celebration dinner. The handsome Gustaf will join us, no?”
Handsome is right, even if he is stubborn as a mule. But Raelene caught the teasing note in her friend’s voice and feigned disinterest. “Yes, we share almost every midday meal together.”
“The people in town, they say many gentlemen have come to call here.”
How much should she reveal? Gustaf had been very discreet when he had invited the gentlemen to the farm. Could she trust Kaariana with the truth? No. Better to be indifferent.
“They no doubt have heard about my inheritance and see an unmarried woman with land as the opportunity to improve their social standing.” She released a derisive snort. “Not one of them has seemed to comprehend or be interested in all that’s involved in running a farm. If they only knew.”
“What do you mean?”
Raelene led the way inside and immediately set to work preparing the meal. “At one time, I was just like them. When we owned the candle shop and provided candles and scented soap to those who needed them, I believed we would remain there and continue to enjoy the convenience of living in town.”
Kaariana worked alongside her. “And you were happy?”
“I thought I was.” She sliced the beef Gustaf had provided and dumped it into the pot along with the vegetables. “The duties at the candle shop didn’t requir
e nearly as much energy, although the process was time consuming.” She carefully hung the pot on the hook over the fire for the stew to cook.
While Kaariana prepared the custard, Raelene sliced the bread. “Here, I rise with the sun to gather the eggs, milk the cow, and put bread in the oven to bake. I usually break the fast alone, but on the occasional morning when Gustaf gets an early start, I have to prepare johnnycakes. Then there are vegetables and fruit to gather and some of the spices from the garden out back. Back home in England, servants did all of that.”
“But you enjoy this work, no?”
“Yes, and that is what makes me realize any gentleman who wishes to be a part of this farm must also demonstrate a willingness and ability to work it.”
“You do not wish to have servants?”
“As the farm grows, yes.” After placing butter on the plate next to the bread, Raelene stirred the stew. “But Gustaf and I have proven the daily chores can be completed without extra people underfoot.”
“My Jurien say you will not find one who works as hard as Gustaf.”
“Hello again, Kaariana.” Gustaf entered through the back door. Drops of water on his face and hands gave evidence of his recent washing. How much had he overheard? The door had not been firmly shut.
Raelene couldn’t tell if her nervousness came from what he might have overheard or the fact that his masculine presence seemed to fill the room. It never failed to set her nerves atwittering.
“I hope you do not mind,” Kaariana said. “I join you for dinner.”
“It is good with me. But I think outside is better. The breeze is cooler than in the kitchen. If Raelene agrees.”
Why would I mind? The midday meals weren’t a private meeting. Raelene ladled out three steaming bowls of stew and placed them on her mother’s tray. Gustaf’s hands brushed hers as he took the tray and led the way to the bench beneath the oak tree.
❧
“Kaariana, will you stay to hear the story of Robinson Crusoe?”