by Jody Hedlund
Across the room, Euphemia’s smile was equally bright. She dabbed at her eyes before starting to issue instructions about the wedding feast she’d prepared.
“Now hold on,” Barclay cut in, grabbing Reinhold before he could walk away. “This wedding ceremony would be as boring as a cow chewing cud if the groom didn’t give his bride a kiss.”
Sophie ducked her head, her lashes falling to her flushed cheeks.
Reinhold shook his head. He couldn’t kiss Sophie. It was one thing to hold her hand and let himself enjoy her warm touch for the duration of the wedding ceremony. It was another thing entirely to kiss her.
“Go on now,” Barclay insisted jovially, his round face full of mischief. “Don’t be a dunderheid, lad.”
Reinhold caught Sophie’s gaze and raised his brows, seeking her permission. He wouldn’t kiss her now unless she agreed to the display, for that was all it would be—a display for their guests.
She shrugged her shoulders almost imperceptibly, as if to give her consent. And then she turned and lifted her face, allowing him access.
His eyes focused on her lips, curved in a shy smile. He could do this. He could kiss her and remain objective. The kiss wouldn’t mean anything. It would be simple and quick and that was all.
He bent in, once again looking her in the eye and questioning her. Should they really go through with a kiss?
She lifted to her toes, closing the distance between their mouths. As her lips came against his, she closed her eyes but not before he caught sight of her yearning. The knowledge of her desire at the moment their lips collided was enough to create an explosion in his gut. Fire, light, heat sparked in brilliant hues.
His hands rose and he cupped her cheeks so he could deepen the connection. His lips moved against hers, fusing them together at the same time she molded her lips to his. The passion in her response caused a groan to work its way up the back of his throat. He was saved from embarrassing himself as Barclay’s laughter penetrated the haze of his desire.
Reinhold broke quickly from Sophie. But even as she backed away, a hot pressure inside urged him to go after her and take possession of those lips again.
“Now, that’s how it’s done, lasses and lads!” Barclay said, clamping a hand on Reinhold’s shoulder. Reinhold tore his attention away from Sophie and tried to smile and pretend that he wasn’t so weak and breathless.
As they followed the guests outside to the tables set up in the yard for the wedding banquet, Reinhold attempted to calm his wildly beating heart. But every time Sophie’s hand brushed his, or her arm bumped him, his sights returned to her lips. And every time she spoke or smiled, his attention shifted to her mouth.
As they ate, he acted as though he wasn’t aware of his desire, yet she was too pretty and vivacious to ignore. And his longing stretched taut until by the end of the afternoon he crackled against the pressure.
“Go over there and kiss her again, lad,” Barclay said as they stood in the waning sunlight, watching Sophie receive gifts from some of the women. “It’s clear as the dawn that ye want to.”
The other men standing with them laughed and added their own teasing to Barclay’s.
“Euphemia, lass,” Barclay called, steering Reinhold toward the women, “let the newlyweds be on their way. Reinhold’s anxious to get his bride home—”
Reinhold cut off his friend’s ribald comment with a jab to his side. Barclay and the other men laughed again. Reinhold couldn’t contain a grin as he started toward Sophie. Somehow in just one day, one ceremony, he’d graduated from the fringes of the community and moved into the welcoming center. His neighbors saw him as more than just a young man now; marriage somehow validated him, made him older and wiser, earned their respect.
At his approach, Sophie met his gaze with a happy one of her own. Even if they weren’t planning to have a real marriage, he was glad they would be friends, have a comfortable companionship, and perhaps even find a little happiness while they were together.
He wouldn’t ask for any more than that.
Sophie paced the bedroom, hugging her arms across her chest. The nightgown Euphemia had packed for her was thin and did little to ward off the chill of the room. But it was silky, with pretty lace along the neck and hem.
She stopped in front of the bare window and peered out over Reinhold’s farm—her farm now too. It had been dark when they’d arrived so that she’d only been able to see outlines of the house and barn and privy. Everything was smaller and much simpler than at the Duffs’ place.
But she was proud of Reinhold for all he’d accomplished in less than a year. Even after her short time among the farming community, she’d gained an appreciation for just how hard he’d had to work to get to where he was.
And yet there was still a long way to go . . .
She’d only had to step one foot inside his house to see that he had the bare essentials necessary for survival. In addition to an old table, two mismatched chairs, and a cookstove, the kitchen contained two blackened pans, a dented coffeepot with a broken spout, and a few forks and tin plates. It was as dirty and unkempt as the rest of the house, which was as sparse as the kitchen.
Sophie had lived in enough squalor over the past years that the condition of Reinhold’s home didn’t bother her. But even as she’d unpacked and found places for their few wedding gifts, she’d tidied and cleaned as best she could. She’d do better tomorrow by the light of day when she could boil water and find soap and rags.
Releasing a tired sigh, she turned away from the bedroom window, walked over to the bed, and crawled onto it. Lacking any sheets, the flimsy straw-stuffed mattress was covered with a couple of wool blankets in sore need of a washing. The bed wasn’t nearly as fresh and comfortable as the one she’d had at the Duffs’. But it was still a bed and better than most places she’d laid her head in recent years.
Although she hadn’t spoken with Reinhold since he’d brought in the last load of wedding presents and headed to the barn, she suspected he’d insist that she sleep on the bed. He was too thoughtful and kind to do otherwise. Even so, she’d been waiting to see him, to say good-night, and more importantly to thank him again for giving her a home so that she could have Olivia and Nicholas.
That was all she wanted to do, she told herself, letting her fingers graze the silky sleeves of the nightdress. Euphemia’s words from earlier in the week sifted through her head as they had many times: “Dinnae worry about your Reinhold. I saw the way he was looking at you at the barn dance, and he’ll be wanting more than a partnership before long.”
Did his kiss at the wedding lend proof to Euphemia’s declaration? The kiss hadn’t been simple, hurried, or awkward. Instead, it had been deep and slow and passionate. She thought again of the tender way he’d cradled her face, the fervent molding of his lips to hers, and she couldn’t deny her longing for another kiss. Was that the real reason she was waiting for him to come back to the house? Because she wanted to kiss him again?
It was their wedding night after all. As they’d been readying to leave the Duffs’ place, everyone had been teasing them good-naturedly, assuming they would spend the night together. In fact, Barclay had insisted Jakob stay the night with Fergus and Alastair so that she and Reinhold could have more privacy.
Of course, Euphemia was well aware of the nature of her relationship with Reinhold, that they had only a business partnership. But she apparently hadn’t informed Barclay, and she hadn’t done anything to discourage the insinuations about Sophie and Reinhold being together.
Sophie leaned back into the sagging mattress, catching a whiff of the sourness of body odor and stale hay. The bed frame creaked, but otherwise the house was silent. She closed her eyes and willed herself to forget about Reinhold, about their wedding, and about his kiss.
But she couldn’t. In her mind she replayed the afternoon and evening. It had been beautiful in every way—her dress, the ceremony, the meal afterward. The guests had been kind and welcoming, making her forget that n
one of her family or friends were there. At the very least, she’d hoped Anna would come, especially since she sent her friend a message to let her know of the wedding details. But she hadn’t heard anything in reply.
After only a few minutes, Sophie sighed and sat up again. If Reinhold was still in the barn working, then maybe he could use her help. After all, he’d had to cut short his workday for the wedding. Without Jakob to assist, he probably had even more chores than usual.
She donned the shawl Euphemia had given her and made her way out of the house and across the farmyard with only the scant moonlight to guide her. At the barn door, she hesitated.
Light shone from the cracks in the plank door, and the steady tapping of a hammer greeted her.
She didn’t want to bother Reinhold if he preferred to work alone. At the same time, however, she’d promised him that he wouldn’t regret marrying her. She had to show him he hadn’t made a mistake, that she could help him, that she might even be an asset to the farm.
Determined, she set her shoulders and slid the door open. The odor of horseflesh and newly cut hay rushed at her.
Reinhold sat on a bench in the center of a wide aisle that ran between stalls on both sides of the barn. A lantern hung directly above him and cast a glow over a curved metal blade on the bench. As the door squealed open, he paused in his work, his hammer suspended above the blade as his sights landed upon her.
“Hello,” she said, offering him a smile, not sure why she suddenly felt so shy.
He lowered his hammer and wiped a sleeve across his forehead, brushing aside damp strands of his dark brown hair that hung in his eyes. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
She realized she couldn’t tell him she’d been waiting for his return. She didn’t want him to think she was desperate for his company. She glanced around the barn and noted his horse in one stall and a reddish-brown cow in the pen across from it. The cow lifted its head and regarded Sophie with large eyes as though wondering who she was and what she was doing here.
Feeling foolish for disturbing Reinhold, Sophie clutched her shawl around her nightgown. “With Jakob gone, I thought maybe you could use some help.”
Reinhold flexed his shoulders, rolling them as though to rid them of the tension that had built there. “I’m just repairing one of my tools. I have to get it ready for cutting more oats tomorrow.”
“The Duffs are cutting oats too.”
He brought his hammer down on one of the long teeth of the tool where it was bent. “We’re all racing to get in the harvest before the frost.”
She stepped farther inside, gaining confidence from the fact that he hadn’t asked her to leave. She slid the door closed. Already moths and other bugs fluttered around the lantern, attracted to the light.
When Reinhold continued to work and didn’t seem to mind her presence, she decided to explore the barn. As she ambled around, she asked Reinhold questions about his farm, his crops and livestock.
After sitting in the loft for a while with a mother cat and her litter of kittens, Sophie climbed down and decided she would stay with Reinhold and keep him company while he finished his repairs, especially since he appeared to enjoy sharing about his farm. She perched on the milking stool and began twisting hay the way Euphemia had taught her into the tight bundles they used for fuel.
As with the other times with Reinhold, she found that their conversation came easily, that he not only talked about his farm and the hardships he’d encountered but he also asked her about her hardships.
She found herself opening up and telling him about her thieving in order to provide for Olivia and Nicholas. When he didn’t react with shock or condemnation, she shared about the last harrowing week in New York City, the involvement with the Bowery Boys, and how she and Anna had witnessed the murder of two Roach Guards.
“We had to leave the city,” Sophie admitted, her fingers twisting another fuel bundle. “And we can’t go back, not without putting our lives in danger.”
He paused, letting his hammer lie idle on his knee while he studied her.
She wondered if she’d said too much. What must he think of her now that he knew she’d been involved in a gang?
“I guess that means you belonged to one of the boys?” he asked, his brows coming together in a dangerous storm cloud above murky green eyes.
She wasn’t sure how much more she should tell him about Danny. She didn’t want Reinhold to think any worse of her than he already did. “Are you jealous?” she asked, trying to keep her voice playful.
He grabbed his hammer and swung it against a metal tine with a force that was sharp and angry. “Who was he?”
Her fingers tangled in the straw and came to a halt. “He wasn’t anyone special—”
“But you were with him?” Reinhold’s expression was almost pained as he watched her and waited for her answer.
Did he think she’d become a loose woman? She gave a short laugh. “It wasn’t like that. I told Danny that I was waiting for marriage.”
“His name was Danny?” he growled.
She smiled. “You are jealous.”
“Maybe.”
Her smile widened, and her heart warmed with his admission. “You don’t have to be jealous. He didn’t mean anything to me.” Not the way Reinhold did. But she kept that thought tucked away.
He was silent for a moment, twisting his hammer and staring at it. Finally the storm clouds in his countenance seemed to dissipate. “I’m glad you’re here, Soph. Away from all that.”
“I’m glad I’m here too.” What would have happened if she hadn’t witnessed the murder the night of the fire? Would she still be in New York City living with Mollie and still involved in the gangs? Not for the first time, she realized her life might have veered the same direction as Mollie’s. Or maybe she would have been married to Danny by now or gotten together with another Bowery Boy, someone who might not have been as patient with her as Danny had been.
Sophie didn’t want to think about what could have happened. She’d made so many mistakes, she wasn’t sure God could put her life back together even if He decided to try.
And yet He’d given Euphemia a fresh start when she’d made mistakes. Was He willing to do that for her too? Could He piece together her life here on this farm in Mayfield, Illinois, with Reinhold Weiss?
Reinhold tapped at the steel tine of his tool again, this time more subdued. Even so, his muscles rippled underneath his shirtsleeve. He was a strong man both outwardly and inwardly. She had no doubt he would provide for her and make sure she was safe. He’d already proven he’d do anything for her—even marry her so she could have Nicholas and Olivia again.
He was a good and worthy man. And she’d trapped him into marriage, had taken advantage of that goodness so she could have her own way. As usual, she’d resorted to her own scheming to try to clean up the mess she’d made with Olivia and Nicholas.
With a sigh, she leaned her head back against the stall door. No, she wouldn’t involve God in her problems any more than she’d involve her sisters. She’d gotten herself into the predicament and she’d have to be the one to get herself out of it. It was too humiliating to think of the alternative, especially facing her sisters and admitting to them how wrong she’d been to run away.
If only she could put her life back together and fix it up pretty, then maybe she’d finally be ready to see her sisters again. They’d never have to know how many mistakes she’d made and how low she’d sunk.
Starting tomorrow, she’d begin again to make a new life for herself. And maybe this time, with Reinhold, she’d finally be able to make things work out.
Chapter 16
Silence awoke Sophie. For several seconds she didn’t move. She nuzzled into the mattress and tried to catch the scent of Euphemia’s delicious breakfast, the mingling of bacon and freshly ground coffee.
Instead, a deep intake of air filled her nostrils with the scent of musty hay.
Her eyes popped open. Bright morning ligh
t slanted through the windows that were devoid of the cherry-red curtains and into a room that was drab and colorless and dirty.
She wasn’t at the Duffs’ anymore. She was in Reinhold’s bedroom. And it was the day after her wedding.
They’d talked in the barn long into the night, and at some point she must have dozed off. She remembered waking when Reinhold lifted her from the stool. She vaguely recalled him carrying her back to the house and up to the bedroom where he’d deposited her gently on the bed.
When he’d bent and pressed a kiss against her forehead, she’d wanted to wrap her arms around him and pull him down beside her. Thankfully she’d been too tired to make a fool of herself.
But now she’d overslept and had made a fool of herself anyway.
She scrambled off the bed. “What a great start to your resolution to make a better life here. He’s probably already cooked himself breakfast and headed out to the fields.”
She quickly donned one of her plain work dresses before hurrying down to the kitchen. A peek out the window showed the sun high in the sky, and she was ashamed to realize she’d slept half the morning away.
With all the work needing to be done, she’d wasted hours of the day. Even so, she dropped into one of the mismatched kitchen chairs and buried her face into her hands with a groan. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t a farmer’s wife. Even if she had been able to drag herself out of bed before dawn, she was inadequate. She’d watched Euphemia at her work and had helped her with numerous tasks, but that was different from managing everything for herself.
Where should she start? What should she do?
The stillness of the morning was broken by the rattle of a wagon and the clatter of horse hooves outside the house. Sophie sat up and pushed away from the table as fresh dismay crowded out her previous misgivings. She wasn’t prepared to have company. Not this morning. Not here.
She’d only embarrass Reinhold. But what else could she do but make the most of her situation and attempt to be a good wife?