Tomorrow's Garden

by Amanda Cabot

  Harriet smiled again. One thing was certain: Lawrence kept her brother too busy to get into trouble. Jake might be missing school, but it appeared that he was learning more valuable lessons than her books could offer him. Working for Lawrence was giving him an education in life.

  Lawrence. Harriet’s smile softened as she realized how he dominated her thoughts. This wasn’t like those first few weeks when Thomas had come to live with his uncle and Harriet had been overwhelmed by the fact that an almost unbelievably handsome young man was paying attention to her. She had soon discovered that Thomas’s sweet words were false, that he didn’t love her, and that he felt nothing but contempt for her family. Lawrence wasn’t like that. He’d never indulged in sweet words, had never claimed to love her. Instead, his actions had demonstrated that he cared about her and her siblings. Lawrence had been a true friend, honest and reliable, a fine example for Jake. It was no wonder she thought of him so often.

  When she reached the end of rue du Marché, Harriet paused, debating whether to follow her normal pattern and turn around or proceed onto Potomac and return home via Hochstrasse. Though the latter route provided more variety, it forced her to pass the saloon. Unlike the stores on rue du Marché, the saloon would be open, welcoming men who indulged in strong spirits, men who might spill out the door, their unsteady gait and slurred words testament to the whiskey they’d consumed. While that had happened only once, it had been enough to convince Harriet to take an alternate course.

  She started to turn around, then stopped. Isabelle had mentioned a new display in the mercantile’s front window, insisting that Harriet would enjoy seeing it, but she’d been too busy to stop by the store after school. If she continued on Potomac to Hochstrasse, she would be able to peer into the plate glass window and see what had excited Isabelle. It was the least she could do for her friend after all the work she was expending on the pageant. Resolutely, Harriet turned onto Potomac.

  She walked briskly, enjoying the cool night air. Though still two blocks from the river, she was aware of the water here, for its moisture scented the air. Harriet breathed in deeply, enjoying the heaviness of the humidity. Lawrence might fear the river, and he had good cause, but she reveled in the sound of life-giving water flowing gently downstream. She couldn’t hear it yet, but she knew it was there, and it comforted her.

  When she reached Hochstrasse, the sensation of nearing the river increased. Her smile broadening, Harriet considered detouring to walk by the river. It was there, at the end of Potomac, that the town had agreed to build a bridge. The campaign had been easier than she had expected. Despite the predictable complaints about higher taxes, when Lawrence had volunteered to contribute half his wages, Ladreville’s citizens had agreed to raise the remaining funds. With construction scheduled to begin in February before the spring rains swelled the Medina, it was the town’s unspoken expectation that, even though his contract was set to expire in January, Lawrence would remain long enough to see his project completed. And that was good, at least for Harriet.

  She looked down the street. There was time to stroll by the river, for Ruth wouldn’t expect her home for another half hour. Her decision made, Harriet quickened her pace, then stopped abruptly as a man emerged from the saloon.

  It couldn’t be. Harriet felt the blood drain from her face, and her hands grew clammy. Why was Lawrence coming from that den of iniquity? Surely he was not one of the men who spent each night there. Surely he knew better. But what if he didn’t? What if he was like her father? Harriet stood frozen, her teeth chattering with fear, until a thought warmed her. Of course. Lawrence was the town’s sheriff. That was why he was in the saloon. Undoubtedly he’d been called to break up a dispute.

  “Good evening, Harriet.” The man in question touched his hat brim in greeting and crossed the street to join her. “I didn’t expect to see you outside.”

  Her foolish fears dissolved faster than sugar in hot coffee, and Harriet smiled as Lawrence approached. Why had she doubted him, if only for an instant? She knew Lawrence, and he was not a drunkard. “Walking helps me relax,” she explained. “I go out most nights, but I don’t usually come this way.”

  “I’m glad you did.” He stepped onto the boardwalk and bent his arm, silently urging her to place her hand in the crook of his elbow.

  Harriet took a step closer. A second later she gasped as her nose registered the odor of whiskey. She sniffed again, not wanting to believe her senses, but there was no doubt. Lawrence had liquor on his breath.

  “Just one more.” Images flashed before her eyes. Father was holding the bottle, filling the glass again. “Just one more.” Was that how it had been tonight? She stared at Lawrence, the man she had thought she knew. What a fool she was! She’d been duped by Thomas, and though she had thought she’d learned her lesson, she had not. She’d trusted this man. “You’ve been drinking.”

  “I had a whiskey,” Lawrence admitted, as if it were of no consequence.

  Harriet recoiled in horror. That was how it started—with one drink, then a second, and then another until the bottle was empty. “How could you? Don’t you know how harmful whiskey is?” Her voice was shrill and filled with anger. Though Lawrence appeared startled, he said nothing. Harriet clenched her fists, trying to control her disappointment. “I thought I knew you. I thought you were different.” Before he could respond, she picked up her skirts and began to run.

  “Harriet, come back.” She heard the sound of Lawrence’s voice and his boot steps behind her. “We need to talk.” Though she knew his longer stride would easily catch her, he did not appear to be hurrying. Perhaps he thought she would turn around. Perhaps he thought her anger would dissipate. He was wrong.

  “Never!”

  “I don’t know why I have to eat with him.” Jake accompanied his words with a snarl. It was no less than Harriet had expected, which was why she’d made the announcement to him separately, rather than waiting until they were all seated for supper. Overall, Jake’s mood might have improved, but one thing had not changed: his dislike for Karl Friedrich.

  “It’s a matter of common courtesy,” Harriet said calmly. Experience had taught her that the best way to deal with Jake was to refuse his bait. No matter what he said or did, she could not display anger. “We’ve been the Friedrichs’ guests many times, and we need to reciprocate.”

  “You do.” Jake pointed a finger at her, his voice rising with audible fury. “I don’t. I don’t ever want to see Karl Friedrich again. Not ever. Do you hear me?”

  Harriet heard him. In all likelihood, everyone in the house did. Jake’s words echoed through her brain. Never again. That’s what she had said about Lawrence, but it wasn’t true. She wanted to see him again. She wanted to resume their friendly bantering. But she also wanted to be assured that the whiskey she had smelled had been an aberration, that it was the last drink he would ever take. And that assurance, she knew, would not be forthcoming, for she had heard that Lawrence patronized the saloon almost every night. He was, it appeared, if not a slave to Demon Alcohol, at least a close acquaintance. But Lawrence wasn’t the subject of today’s discussion. Karl was.

  Harriet nodded slowly, acknowledging her brother’s words. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but you’re wrong about Karl. He is not courting me, and he does not want to be your father.” Since the night of the fall festival, there had been nothing remotely familiar about Karl’s behavior. He had treated her with courtesy but nothing more. If he had had any romantic thoughts about her, it appeared they had been destroyed along with his buggy seats. “You may not want to see him again, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Karl felt the same way.” When she and Ruth had discussed inviting the Friedrichs, Harriet had wondered if they would accept or if they would hold Jake’s behavior against the whole Kirk family.

  “I hope he does. Maybe then he won’t come.” A satisfied smile crossed Jake’s face. “If he does, I’ll stay at the livery. I’d rather eat oats with the horses than anything wi
th him.” Jake laced the last word with contempt.

  The open defiance was vintage Jake. Though she bit back her anger, Harriet responded with her firmest tone, the one that brooked no dissention. “You’ll eat here and you’ll be civil to all our guests. Even Karl. Now, I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  She did not. From the moment Karl and his parents arrived, Jake said not a word. Instead, he feigned laryngitis. Harriet might have been amused by her brother’s ingenuity had it not been for the fact that, though he remained silent, his expressions were eloquent. Scowls and frowns were interspersed with patently disdainful glances, leaving no one to doubt his displeasure with the family’s guests. Tonight even Frau and Herr Friedrich were included in Jake’s disapproval, apparently being punished for the sin of giving birth to Karl. It was intolerably rude, and yet Harriet had little recourse. Had he been younger, she would have sent Jake to his room and insisted that he remain there until he was ready to apologize. She would not do that today, for that was exactly what her brother wanted.

  “Permit me,” Karl said when the table was laden with food and everyone had gathered around it. As he pulled out Harriet’s chair and seated her, Jake glared.

  “It was very kind of you to invite us.” Frau Friedrich smiled her approval of the canned beans. Inspired by the pickling lessons, Harriet had decided that she and Ruth could can some beans, and although they’d had their share of problems, at least the results were edible.

  “I’m thankful you could come. I know how busy you are.”

  “Dairy cattle are the problem,” Herr Friedrich explained. “They need to be milked twice a day.”

  When Daniel and Sam poked each other, apparently finding amusement in the farmer’s schedule, Ruth gave them a stern look. “They’re trouble,” she said. For a moment, Harriet wondered whether she was referring to her brothers. “But the milk and cheese are delicious.” It appeared Ruth wasn’t commenting on her siblings. “I used to enjoy milking our cow in Fortune.”

  Harriet stared at her sister, startled by both the revelation that she had taken pleasure in their cow and by the number of words she had strung together. The old Ruth would have spent the evening studying her plate as if it contained answers to the world’s mysteries and would have exchanged no more than two or three words with their guests. The new Ruth was surprisingly social. If this was the result of the time she had spent with Pastor Russell when she delivered food to the parsonage, Harriet could not complain. At least one of her siblings was being polite.

  Karl leaned toward Ruth and grinned. “You’re welcome to milk our cows anytime you want.”

  Though Ruth smiled, Jake glowered and snorted, sounding more like a pig than a cow as he shoveled food into his mouth and chewed with it half open. Once again, he was testing Harriet, daring her to banish him. Perhaps she should for the Friedrichs’ sakes, but she hated the idea of letting Jake win. Instead, she tried to deflect attention from her brother’s poor manners by channeling the conversation toward innocuous subjects. But, whether she spoke of the weather, the upcoming pageant, or Frau Friedrich’s plans for their Christmas tree, Jake’s response was always the same: a sullen expression and more barnyard noises.

  “Have you thought about what you’ll do next year?” Studiously ignoring Jake, Karl directed his question to Harriet.

  She nodded. Surely this topic would not provoke Jake’s anger. “I expect to be teaching again, if the town renews my contract.” Though Lawrence had not reported any further complaints about her, there was always the possibility that something—perhaps Jake’s behavior—would convince the townspeople that she was unfit to be their schoolmarm.

  Karl’s lips turned up in an enigmatic smile. “Perhaps you will be the one not to renew the contract,” he suggested.

  Harriet blinked. “Why would I do that? I enjoy teaching.” Especially now that her pupils’ enthusiasm was rekindled by the pageant.

  Daniel made a well in his mashed potatoes and began to fill it with the serving of beans Harriet had insisted he take, dousing the mixture with a generous helping of gravy. Harriet tried not to smile at her youngest brother’s attempt to mask the flavor of a vegetable he detested. She should be thankful he wasn’t glowering at their guests.

  Oblivious to the fact that Mary, who normally enjoyed green beans, had emulated her brother, somehow managing to splatter gravy on the tablecloth, Karl gave his mother a knowing smile before he turned back to Harriet. “You wouldn’t renew your contract if you were planning to marry.”

  There was a moment of silence as his words registered. Then, before Harriet could respond, Jake jumped to his feet. “Not you! She won’t marry you! My sister deserves better than you, you old goat!” Without waiting to be excused, Jake stormed from the room.

  An hour later, Harriet stood next to Ruth, drying the dishes her sister was washing. Though the elder Friedrichs had insisted they were returning to the farm to complete their daily chores and that was the reason they could not stay for dessert, Harriet knew otherwise. Nothing she could say could mitigate the damage Jake’s outburst had caused. When her temper cooled, she planned to deal with him. She would have to reprimand him for his behavior, though she suspected that would accomplish nothing. No matter how often she spoke to him, where Karl was concerned, Jake remained irrational.

  “Karl was right, you know.” Ruth handed her a plate. “You should consider marriage.” As Harriet started to sputter, Ruth continued, “Not Karl, but what about Lawrence?”

  Marry Lawrence! That was even more absurd than the thought of becoming Karl’s wife. “What a preposterous idea.”

  “Why?” Ruth swirled another plate in the rinse water before she handed it to Harriet. “He’s a good man, well respected. Even Jake tolerates him. You could do worse.”

  What a night. First Jake’s rudeness, now Ruth’s silly suggestion. Though she was tempted to ignore the latter, Harriet knew Ruth would persist until she received an answer. “You know I don’t plan to marry until Mary is raised,” she said as calmly as she could, “but if I did, there are many reasons why Lawrence would not be the man I chose.” She stretched onto her tiptoes to slide the stack of plates onto their designated shelf. “I know you’re not going to rest until I tell you what they are, so here are three.” Harriet held up her right hand, the fingers curled into her palm. Raising one, she said, “He drinks.” A second joined the first as she added, “He doesn’t want a ready-made family. And, most importantly,” she said as she raised her ring finger, “he doesn’t love me.”

  Ruth’s snort reminded Harriet of Jake. What was happening to this family that everyone was becoming contentious and resorting to crude noises?

  “So you say.” Ruth shook her head slowly. “I think you’re wrong about his feelings. I think you’re afraid of love.”

  16

  It was the oddest town he’d ever seen. Thomas looked around, his lip curling at the sight of half-timbered buildings. Didn’t these folks know that Texans didn’t build houses like this? A house was made of stone or wood. Only foreigners would think you should use both. But that’s what this town was, a bunch of foreigners. He heard them talking, and even the ones who spoke English were almost impossible to understand.

  Why on earth had Harriet decided to come here when she could have remained in Fortune as his wife? Surely by now she would have seen the error of her ways. Every other woman would have, but Harriet was stubborn. There was no telling what she was thinking.

  Thomas walked slowly, choosing the quietest streets. If Ladreville was like Fortune, there’d be nosy people just waiting to report that a stranger had entered their precious town. He couldn’t let that happen. If he was going to convince Harriet to marry him, he needed surprise on his side. That and his charm would do the trick.

  He looked around. It wouldn’t be hard to find the school. And then . . . Thomas grinned in anticipation.

  “Women! I’ll never understand them.” Lawrence frowned at his companion, then shrugged as
he leaned back in the saddle. He was a churl to even introduce the subject. It wasn’t Sterling’s fault that he was in a rotten mood. It wasn’t even the fault of the cloudy day. The problem was, Lawrence had lain awake most of the night as he had for the past week, reliving his encounter with Harriet. Predictably, by morning his head hurt almost as much as it had the one time he’d had too many whiskeys.

  He probably should have declined the minister’s invitation, but he had thought—wrongly, it turned out—that a brisk ride might improve his disposition. Besides, Snip needed the exercise. And so he and Sterling were on the opposite side of the Medina, letting their horses cool down after a gallop.

  The air was thick and damp, presaging a storm, but that didn’t appear to faze Sterling. He grinned as he swatted a fly that buzzed around his nose. “Women are definitely one of God’s mysteries. I’m not sure he meant us to understand them, but he did send them to us for a reason.”

  “To make our lives miserable?” Lawrence was only half joking. His life had certainly been miserable since that night outside the saloon. At first he’d thought Harriet would calm down in a day or two, but when he’d approached her after church, she’d pretended she didn’t see him, and when he’d addressed her on the street, she had given him a look that would have chilled an August day. How was a man supposed to patch up a quarrel—if that’s what it was—when the other party wouldn’t speak? “I swear, women are creatures from another world.”