After supper, Bobbie got her new yarn and her knitting needles, and went into the parlor where Jakob was sitting.
"Dishes done?" he asked.
She nodded. "Done and put away. We need to talk."
He nodded. "I didn't mean to kiss you earlier."
Blushing, she said, "I know that. I knew it when you did it. My question is, why were you so angry about the curtains?"
He closed his eyes, not certain he wanted to tell her the whole story, but realizing she deserved it now. "Do you know how Erna died?"
She shook her head, looking down at her knitting, hoping it would help him to be able to talk if they weren't looking at one another.
"She came to visit me at work, and she walked a little ways out onto the lake, where it was frozen. The ice cracked, and she fell through. We all tried to get her out, but we couldn't.
"One of my men got too close to the lake today, and he fell in. It's not cold enough to freeze him yet, but it's still plenty cold. We were able to get him out, but it was close for a minute there. The currents on the lake are strong, and they were starting to pull him under. My brother jumped in and got him out."
"Is your brother all right?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yeah, he was upset, because he was on his way to meet someone important, but he's fine."
"Good." She frowned. "I'm not sure why that made you angry with me though."
"All day Erna's death was weighing heavy on my heart, and I got home, and you'd removed something she did shortly after we moved into this house five years ago. She was so proud of the house, and she spent hours on those curtains, wanting them to be just so." He shrugged. "I was worried you were trying to remove things that remind me of her, and I was angry."
"Next time give me the benefit of the doubt, please. I won't deliberately change anything that matters to you. Ask me about it nicely instead of yelling at me. I don't do well with getting yelled at." Her father, and later her boss, Bob at the factory, had both been people who shouted at her. After the factory burned she promised herself she would never allow someone to yell at her again.
"I will try. I am sorry I was rude to you. It was unacceptable, but hopefully not unforgivable."
"Not unforgivable." She sighed. "About the kiss—"
He cut her off before she said more. "The kiss wasn't mean to happen. I'm very sorry that it did."
She sighed. "It was my first kiss." She hadn't meant to say it, but it was true. Her first kiss had been given in anger, and her husband said it hadn't been meant to happen. Why had she enjoyed it?
He frowned. "Your first kiss shouldn't have been like that." He closed his eyes for a moment, knowing it was a mistake, but needing to change her impression of kissing. She was sitting on the couch, and he was sitting in a chair perpendicular to her. He got up and moved beside her on the couch.
"This will mean nothing, but I can't have you thinking all kisses are like the one in my bedroom." He knew it was a mistake, but he couldn't stop himself. She was so pretty, and she was kind. He couldn't let her take that memory of kissing to bed that night.
He took the skein of yarn and crochet needle from her lap, setting them both on the coffee table in front of the couch. Cupping her face in his hands, he looked down into her brown eyes. Brown eyes were such a strange combination with blond hair, but he liked it. Too much.
"This is how a first kiss should be." He slowly lowered his head, his lips brushing hers lightly before sinking into the kiss. His fingers played along her neck, and he traced her mouth lightly with his tongue, waiting for her to spread her lips so he could gain entrance.
One hand drifted from her cheek, to her shoulder, and down to her elbow. He didn't move his hand anywhere else, although he wanted nothing more than to cup her breast in his hand.
Slowly, he lifted his head, and looked down at her. Her lips were moist and slightly parted, her eyes closed. She was beautiful. Truly, she was much prettier than Erna had ever been. As soon as he thought that, he stood up abruptly. "I believe that's enough to show you how a first kiss should be."
He moved back to the chair he'd vacated and picked up a book, opening it. It was one of his favorites, and one of the few German books they had lying around the house. He didn't see it. He stared down at it blindly, thinking only about how she'd looked after his kiss.
Roberta sat still for a moment, wondering why he'd gone so quickly, but she knew. Deep down, she knew perfectly. He didn't want to have feelings for her. Erna was his true love, and he refused to ever feel anything for her. She'd doomed herself to a loveless marriage, tying her life to this man's forever. She only hoped she could keep her heart encased in ice as his obviously was.
Chapter Five
While she worked the following day, Bobbie couldn't stop thinking about the kiss she'd shared with Jakob the night before. How could she just go on as if something earth-shattering hadn't happened? She sat down, right after lunch, and wrote a letter to Sarah, wishing her friend were there to give her counsel.
As she wrote, she formulated a plan in her mind. It was a good one, if she could just get it to work. She couldn't spend her life in a loveless marriage. She knew that now. She already had feelings for Jakob. Yes, he was a stubborn German who needed a lesson in manners, but he was also gentle with his boys and a good man. She'd seen him look at pictures of Erna with love and longing in his eyes, and she wanted him to look at her that way.
She had always heard their cook say, "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach." She would take out the recipes that Sarah had written down for her, and she would make him the most wonderful meals he'd ever eaten. She could do it. She knew she could. Maybe she'd win the boys to her side in the process.
While she was thinking about what to cook, she decided that a meal of fried chicken and potato salad wouldn't be amiss. Would the family be up for a drive and a picnic after church Sunday? She didn't know, but she'd ask. She wanted to see the area. It was a beautiful place, and though there was no ocean, he kept talking about a large lake nearby. She didn't know what the lake was, but she wanted to see it. She wanted to do anything she could with her new family that was frivolous and not work. She'd arrived on a Monday, and it was already Wednesday, but they'd done nothing but work. The boys had been in school all day every day, and Jakob had gone to the lumber camp. For her part, she'd stayed home and worked all day every day.
The bedrooms were clean, and the house was really starting to take shape. She was proud of the way it was looking. Every wall and every floor had been polished until they shone. She was a good wife, but surely he saw her as more than a cleaning woman. They'd kissed after all, and a man couldn't kiss a woman like that unless he had feelings for her. Could he?
When he got home from work that night, she kept hoping he'd come into the kitchen and at least kiss her cheek, but he didn't. He didn't say anything at all, but stopped in the parlor and picked up his German book.
She'd wondered what he was reading, so she'd picked it up but hadn't been able to read a single word. The fact that he could read German impressed her. She could only read English. He spoke two languages. She assumed his German was even better than his English which was excellent.
She pulled the pot roast from the oven, taking the drippings from the bottom of the pan and mixing them with flour and water to make gravy. She scooped the carrots and the potatoes from the pan and put them into a bowl. Then she poured milk for everyone. She knew he liked coffee, but surely he didn't drink it at night. It would keep him up.
She wished she had a flower to add to the middle of the table as a decoration, but there were none to be found. Instead, she put a pretty vase she'd seen on the shelf there, empty. It still looked nice to her.
She'd baked a cake for supper as well, hoping it turned out well. It was her first cake without Sarah standing over her telling her what to do.
When she called everyone for supper, they eyed the table oddly, but took their seats. Immediately after the prayer, Lukas asked t
he question she knew all three of the men had on their minds. "Why is there an empty vase on the table?"
Bobbie shrugged. "I thought it looked pretty, and there were no flowers to put into it."
Lukas looked at his father and shook his head. "I think you got us a broken frog-mutter."
She blushed, embarrassed. "I assure you, I'm not broken. And I wish you would stop calling me your frog-mutter."
"But you don't look like a frog, see?" Lukas said by way of explanation, although his words explained nothing.
"I'm glad you don't think I look like a frog," Bobbie said, shaking her head. "I still wish you'd stop calling me that."
"What should I call you then?" he asked, his eyes wide as if he really didn't know.
"Why don't you boys call me Bobbie? It's what my friends call me."
Lukas frowned at her. "But that's a boy's name."
"My real name is Roberta, and my mother called me Bobbie from the time I was in the cradle. I like it."
"I will call you Bobbie, but it's still a boy's name. I think frog-mutter suits you so much better."
Bobbie looked at Jakob, hoping for a bit of help, but he said nothing. He didn't care what the boys called her, as long as she continued to cook like she did. He'd truly enjoyed dinner the past few nights, and he realized he'd done the right thing to marry her, frog-mutter or no.
Konrad eyed her. "I agree with Lukas. Bobbie is a boy name, but we will call you that if you like."
"Thank you." Bobbie was glad the discussion about her name was over.
"Will you always put empty vases on the table?" Lukas asked again. He really seemed perplexed why anyone would want it there, but she seemed to be happy with it.
"I might. It's my choice isn't it?" She wished she'd never made an effort to make the table nicer. Obviously they didn't care how it looked anyway. They just cared if the food tasted good.
"I guess it is," Lukas responded, looking at her like she was crazy. "I still think you might be broken."
She decided to ignore him. It was no use arguing with an eight year old. She looked at Jakob. "Do you work on Saturdays?"
He nodded. "I work every day but Sunday, and sometimes I even work then. Not usually."
"Are you working this Sunday?" she asked, wanting to ask him to take her for the drive and picnic.
He shook his head, wondering why she was asking.
"I would like to go for a drive on Sunday after church, if you don't mind. I've been in Wisconsin less than a week, and I'd love to see the surrounding areas."
He shrugged. "I suppose we could do that if there's no rain." He frowned at her. "After lunch?"
"I thought we could take a picnic basket and a quilt, and have a picnic somewhere along the way." She held her breath, hoping he'd agree to her suggestion. She wanted to get to know him better, and what better way than to go for a drive and have a picnic?
"Ja, we can do that. If you want to." He looked at the boys. "You both like picnics, don't you?" They hadn't done anything fun as a family since before Erna died. Perhaps it was time.
Konrad shrugged. "Picnics are fun."
Lukas nodded. "I like picnics, even with broken frog-mutters...I mean Bobbies."
Bobbie refused to rise to the bait. Minutes later both boys finished, carrying their plates to the sink without being reminded. "Thank you."
Both nodded before running up the stairs, leaving her alone with Jakob for the first time since their kiss.
"The house is looking much better," Jakob told her. "I'm very impressed with how hard you've been working."
She shrugged. "I know that's why I'm here." For once, she wished she was there because he loved her. Because he wanted to fall in love with the bride he'd decided to marry sight unseen.
"I do appreciate it. When will you start mending?"
So much for appreciation. He was ready for her to move on to the next project. "I was planning to finish the house first. I haven't done anything upstairs yet except wash the boys' bedding. Their rooms need to be cleaned, and the two spare rooms need some attention as well. If there's something you need right away, set it in the parlor for me, and I'll work on it tonight, instead of waiting."
"I am down to one pair of pants without a hole after ripping the ones I wore today. Would you mind fixing one enough so I can work in them?"
Bobbie sighed. "I can do that with no problem. I need to make you some new pants anyway. Why don't you leave the pair that's the most torn up, and I'll use it for a pattern and buy some fabric tomorrow. I can have it done in no time." She'd sewn many different garments while working in the factory, and she was very quick, especially with a sewing machine.
"I will do that. Thank you."
After the dishes were done, she walked into the parlor to find a small pile of mending. There were three pair of socks, two shirts, two pair of pants she could fix, and one pair of pants that was beyond repair. She picked up the pants first. "You need these the most, correct?"
He nodded. "That would be nice. I have no socks without holes, and I keep getting blisters on my feet, so if you could do some socks next, that would be nice."
"I will fix those," she said nodding at them, "but I will make more as well. I enjoy knitting and crocheting a great deal." Truly, since she'd never done it for a living, she liked it much better than sewing, but she would do whatever she needed to do for her new family. She knew the boys needed new clothes as well. Neither of them had pants that were long enough to fit their legs. "Why don't you read to me while I do the mending?"
He looked down at the book in his hands. "Do you know German?"
She shook her head. "No. Do you not have any books in English?"
He closed his eyes, not wanting to admit the truth to her. "I don't read English."
"But—you sent me letters. How do you not read English?"
"Konrad wrote the letters, and he read the one from you. He's a good reader and writer of English. I should have told you I can't read."
"But you can read! You just read a different language than I do. I can teach you to read English if you'd like. Or I'd love it if you taught me to speak German. I can speak a bit of French, but the only words I know in German are mutter, and usually frog-mutter, and vater."
He smiled. "I know Lukas is silly to keep calling you frog-mutter, but I think it makes him feel better to not call you Mutter. His mutter died, and he still misses her a great deal. He doesn't want to replace her."
"I don't want to replace her, you know. But just how you can love Lukas, even though you loved Konrad first, I don't see why I can't be Bobbie, the one who came after Erna."
He stared at her as if she'd said something foreign to him. "You expect them to love you and still love Erna?"
"I really don't know why that's not possible."
But it would mean he could love her and still love his first wife, and he didn't see that as possible at all. He would feel as if he was betraying his first wife if he loved this one even a little bit. How could that be all right? With either of the women?
"I don't know. I will talk to them about it. It doesn't seem possible to me, though."
She bit her lip, trying to keep herself from tearing up. She so badly wanted to be part of their family, in a way she'd never imagined she would. She thought she'd be content to cook and clean for them, but instead, she wanted them to love her. It wasn't possible, though.
Roberta felt more defeated than ever before in her life when she went to bed that night. Even more so than she had the day the factory had burned to the ground. What was it about her that made her so unlovable? Her father hadn't loved her. Her mother had moved on with her life and married another man, effectively cutting her out.
She wanted to cry as she closed her eyes, but she refused. God loved her. Sarah loved her. She wasn't unlovable. She just needed to show her new family that. She could do it. She knew she could!
*****
Bobbie woke up earlier than usual for church on Sunday. Jakob had told her s
ervice was at nine and would last a full two hours, so she wanted to have the picnic lunch she'd promised the boys ready. It was late October already, and the weather was getting nippy. It would probably be their last chance for a picnic before the snow started to fall. She'd heard many things about the cold Wisconsin winters, but really, she couldn't imagine how they could be worse than Massachusetts.
She fried a chicken, wrapping it in a napkin and slipping it into the picnic hamper she'd found in the basement. She added lemonade, potato salad, and several cookies. She knew the boys would be happy with the cookies. She folded a quilt over the top of the basket, and set a ball she'd found beside it. Maybe the boys could play, and she and Jakob could get to know one another better while they did.
She hoped he remembered telling her he'd take her for a drive, because it hadn't been mentioned again, but she really did want to see the area as well as get to know her new family better.
She walked into church, holding Jakob's arm. He wanted it to appear as if they had a normal marriage when they were in public, and she liked the idea of holding onto his arm. He introduced her to many of the people there, but she already knew a few. Mr. Jensen from the general store greeted her when he saw her, and of course Bertha came over and introduced her husband.
"How do you know Mrs. Berthelot?" Jakob asked.
"We were on the train together on the way here. When my friend, Sarah, got off the train in Colby, I was more than a little distraught, and she comforted me." Bobbie didn't want to admit that seeing her best friend go had affected her so, but it was the truth. She would give her husband nothing less than the truth. Ever.
He took her to a pew off to the right side of the church, and they sat down together, the boys on either side of them. Lukas leaned toward her and whispered, "I get to sit next to my new frog-mutter."
"Stop calling me that," she whispered back, determined to make the boy remember she hated the nickname.
"I can't. That's what you are."
They stood and sang the songs in the hymnal, Jakob sharing hers with her, singing the songs in his deep booming voice, acting as if he was following along with the words. She knew he couldn't read the words in the hymnal, but he must have memorized them after years of going to church there.
Roberta: Bride of Wisconsin (American Mail-Order Bride 30) Page 5