by Jody Hedlund
Just as quickly as the smile came, it faded at the realization that she wouldn’t be here to witness Euphemia as a grandmother. She’d no longer be a part of this family or these warm and loving mealtimes.
“Sophie,” Anna said hesitantly, “I don’t want to leave.”
Sophie’s hands in the water stilled. She wasn’t surprised Anna was feeling the same way she was. After all the places they’d lived, Euphemia’s home was like stepping into the folds of a warm feather comforter. The love and joy wrapped them up and kissed them, holding out a future unlike anything they’d ever known.
It was an appealing offer, one that apparently Anna wanted to accept. Sophie’d wanted it too. Now that it had been ripped away from her, she realized just how badly she longed to stay and be Reinhold’s wife, to be a helpmate to him, to be a part of this community of farmers.
Not only had she fallen in love with Reinhold, but she’d fallen in love with the kind of life that belonged to a farmer’s wife. As difficult and laborious as the work had been, she’d never felt more fulfilled than she had that day she’d stocked the cellar with all the food she’d harvested and prepared from the garden. She’d loved learning how to cook and sew. And she’d loved adding a woman’s touch to the farmhouse. She’d even loved working in the field with Reinhold—the satisfaction she’d felt in knowing that, by working together, they’d saved the potato crop.
But her love hadn’t mattered, and now he’d given her no choice but to leave.
The familiar ache in her chest swelled, yet she reminded herself none of this was Reinhold’s fault. She was the one who’d coerced him into marriage, who’d told him it would be a business partnership, who’d used him in her efforts to get Olivia and Nicholas back. He’d been kind enough to go along with all of it. In fact, he’d already done more than he’d bargained for. Like this morning before church . . .
She lowered her head and closed her eyes. What had she been thinking? There was absolutely no part of her kidnapping plan that made any sense. She’d been naïve to believe she could simply snatch Nicholas and leave the churchyard. Naïve and desperate.
But with time slipping away, she hadn’t known what else to do.
She was grateful Reinhold had spoken out against Mr. Ramsey for hitting her. And he’d justified her rash attempt to run away with Nicholas. Even more than that, she was grateful he’d taken her back home, so she didn’t have to face anyone’s disapproval—namely Reverend Poole’s.
She hadn’t wanted to face Reinhold’s questions again either, so she’d allowed Olivia to drag her out of the house. They’d hiked to the creek with Jakob, watched him fish, and then later climbed to the barn loft and played with the kittens. All the while she’d attempted to resign herself to the possibility that they would have to leave Nicholas behind.
But could she really do it? Could she really get on the train tomorrow and ride away without him? And yet how could she remain and face her sisters?
“Sophie?” Anna said, drawing Sophie back to the present moment.
She opened her eyes and tried to focus on scrubbing the dish and on finalizing their plans. She lifted the dish from the water and let the water drip away. “How much longer do you want to stay?”
Anna shrugged. “I don’t know—”
A manly cough came from the doorway. Sophie jumped, and the wet plate slipped from her fingers. It landed on the floor with a crash, porcelain shards flying in all directions.
“I’m sorry.” Lyle stepped into the kitchen, his round face turning red. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Don’t worry,” Anna said. “It’s my fault for not taking the plate from Sophie.”
“I was just coming to refill my coffee of mug,” Lyle said.
Anna cocked her head.
Lyle’s face turned a shade darker. “Mug of coffee.”
“Och.” Euphemia bustled in from the dining room. In one sweeping glance she took in the broken dish as well as Sophie’s dripping hands. Then her gaze swung from Lyle to Anna and then back. “I see my wee bairn is inventing excuses to be near the pretty girls and then scaring them in the process.”
“No, Mum, it’s not like that at all.” Lyle darted a sideways glance at Anna.
“Well, since you startled the girls, you can help Anna clean up.” Euphemia stepped into the pantry and reappeared a moment later with a broom before handing it to Lyle.
He faced Anna with an expression like a little boy at the general store who’d been told he could choose a handful of candy. Anna was already kneeling and picking up the bigger pieces. He lowered himself next to her, reached for a piece at the same time as Anna. As their fingers brushed, Lyle murmured an apology, but Anna only smiled.
Sophie stifled a smile of her own as she turned back to the remaining dishes. She liked Lyle. Even if he was a little awkward at times, he was a good man, just like Barclay. And he’d make a fine husband to some lucky woman.
With a start, Sophie glanced back at Anna. Was her friend attracted to Lyle? Was that why she wanted to stay longer?
Euphemia hummed as she started another pot of coffee. No doubt, Anna wanted to stay to be near Euphemia too. Who wouldn’t?
“I’ll finish for you, Sophie.” Euphemia bumped Sophie with her wide hip as though to move her aside. “You go sit with Olivia and rest your feet.”
Sophie shook her head and scrubbed at a wooden spoon. “I’m fine. Really I am.”
“Dinnae make me swat you, lass.” Euphemia wedged her large frame in front of the basin.
“I’m sorry for breaking your plate,” Sophie said.
“Och, think nothing of it. It’s not the first dish that’s been broken in this kitchen, and it won’t be the last.” Euphemia plunged her hands into the dishwater and began to scrub a dirty pan vigorously. “We’re human. We break things. It’s what we do with the brokenness that counts.”
It’s what we do with the brokenness that counts.
Sophie rolled the words around in her mind, testing and tasting them. When she lowered herself into a chair at the dining room table, Olivia showed her the stitches she’d knitted all by herself—some sagging and too loose, others tiny and tight. Olivia’s face beamed with pride, and her eyes glowed at her simple accomplishment. One day Olivia would look back on that first attempt and see her mistakes and likely unravel it and start over. For now, the misshapen twisting line of yarn was her best effort, and no one would criticize her for it.
In fact, Sophie praised her efforts and kissed her forehead, encouraging her to keep going. And as she did so, she realized her sisters had always done the same for her. They’d always encouraged her and believed in her.
Would they do so again if they saw the tangled mess she’d made of her life? She wished she could hold out her misshapen life as easily as Olivia had held out her line of knitting. But she’d kept her mistakes hidden for so long, embarrassed, guilt-ridden, and too ashamed to let her sisters or anyone else see the mess.
It’s what we do with the brokenness that counts.
Could she let go of attempting to make the repairs her own way and finally hand the mess over to the One waiting to forgive her and repair her life in His way?
Sophie shivered at the prospect, then rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Olivia squinted at the yarn, her bottom lip captured between her teeth in concentration. Olivia would never willingly leave Mayfield, not if Nicholas was still here. Anna didn’t want to go—at least not now.
And deep down, Sophie knew it was time to stop running from her mistakes and the brokenness of her life. She had to face her sisters before she could move on. She had to do it for them, for her, for them all.
She had to place the broken pieces into God’s hands and let Him start putting her back together. She’d never be the same innocent, sweet girl she’d once been. She was too cracked and chipped to ever go back. But if God could show His grace to Euphemia and create something new out of her life, Sophie would let Him do the same with her.
&
nbsp; Chapter 24
“Are you ready?” Reinhold’s call from the farmyard wafted through the open kitchen door.
“Coming!” Sophie replied as she finished tying the ribbon of her bonnet underneath her chin. The ribbon was still crooked, but she’d procrastinated as long as she possibly could. She couldn’t put off leaving any longer.
She pressed her hands to her quivering stomach and crossed to the door. She took a final glance around the small kitchen. Everything was tidy, the fuel box was full of twisted hay, a fresh basin of water stood on the stand, even a pot of stew simmered on the stove.
This was good-bye, likely the last time she’d stand in her—in Reinhold’s—kitchen. She’d wanted to leave it fully stocked and ready for Reinhold and Jakob when they returned later. Without her.
The tight ache in her throat pinched her airways and a suffocating sensation came over her, the same she’d felt since the ride home from the Duffs’ place on Sunday two nights ago when she’d told Reinhold she wasn’t leaving anymore, that she would stay and meet her sisters.
His relief at her news had been so palpable that his voice trembled when he’d responded, “It’s the right thing, Soph.”
She supposed it was indeed the right thing. Yet all she’d been able to think about was the enormity of Reinhold’s relief and how much it had hurt to know he wanted to be rid of her and end their marriage.
When Mr. Wilson, the storekeeper and telegraph operator, had sent a messenger out to the farm on Monday morning with a wire that her sisters would arrive on Tuesday on the ten o’clock southbound train, Reinhold’s relief had once again been as evident in his features as the dust from the field.
They’d spoken very little to each other since then. She hadn’t been able to find much to say past the hurt that radiated in her chest. And he’d been silent too.
Now it was time to ride into town and meet the train that was bringing her sisters, their husbands, and her new niece or nephew. Silke and Verina were coming too. Sophie wanted to feel excitement at seeing Elise and Marianne again, but all she felt was dread. Even if she was trying to trust God to make His repairs in His timing, she wished He’d worked a miracle overnight so that her sisters wouldn’t see how broken she was.
But no matter how difficult, she would face them. Today.
As she stepped outside into the sunshine, she had to fight the urge to run inside up to her room and barricade the door. She took a deep breath of the cool morning air and told herself she couldn’t run, couldn’t do things her way anymore. Instead, she had to hand control over to the One who could fix her brokenness. She was learning that the handing over was something she had to do minute by minute. Maybe today she’d even have to do it second by second.
She slowly pivoted to find three pairs of eyes upon her. Olivia and Jakob sat in their usual spots in the back of the wagon, and Reinhold was perched upon the wagon bench, reins in hand. With his hat pulled low, his eyes were shadowed so she couldn’t read them. But the grim set of his lips spoke of his own turmoil.
Was today hard for him too? Was he afraid of what Elise and Marianne would say to him, especially once they learned she’d been living here for over a month? Maybe he expected them to be angry with him for not contacting them sooner.
Well, he needn’t worry. She planned to take all the blame upon herself. She’d explain to her sisters that everything was her fault, that Reinhold had wanted to contact them right away but hadn’t because of her threats.
In the back of the wagon, Olivia’s expression was filled with hope. The girl didn’t remember much about Elise or Marianne. She’d been so young when she’d last seen them. But she was hoping—the same as Sophie—that the two wealthy sisters would find a way to help them get Nicholas back.
Jakob held Olivia on his lap. He shot Reinhold a look, one laden with questions as well as admonition.
As Sophie walked the short distance to the wagon, Reinhold jumped down and rounded the wagon to help her up as he always did. When his hand braced her hip, she ignored the warmth and strength of his touch. Before lifting her, the brim of his hat tipped up and unveiled his eyes, giving her a glimpse down into his soul, to the stormy anguish there.
The ferocity of the storm took Sophie by surprise. Before she could formulate a question or before he could heft her up, the rattle of a wagon drew their attention away from each other and to the path that led to the farmhouse.
Had the train arrived early? Maybe instead of waiting in town, her family had decided to ride out to the farm.
Reinhold steadied her on the ground and released his hold before taking a step away, almost as though he didn’t want Elise and Marianne to catch him touching her. Was he afraid of what they’d think when they learned he’d married her? Yes, they’d be surprised. But they wouldn’t disapprove, would they? Not with Reinhold, the man they both admired and loved.
Maybe Reinhold believed he’d fall short of their expectations now that they were married to important and wealthy men. After all, he’d made a point of bringing up how her sisters would be able to provide the best of everything for her now—food, home, clothes, and anything she could ever want.
“You should know,” she said quietly. “Just because I’ve agreed to see my sisters doesn’t mean I’m planning to join them permanently.”
His eyes sharpened. “You can’t run away again, Soph.”
“I won’t. But I’ve been on my own too long to go back to living with them.”
He was silent as if digesting her news. “If you don’t go with them, then what will you do?”
“I don’t know,” Sophie answered honestly. “I’ve been thinking about finding a way to stay in the area. I like Mayfield, and I like farm life.” She considered pleading with Euphemia to let her room with Anna until she could find work. But she also knew that wouldn’t be a long-term solution.
As the oncoming wagon bumped along the last wilted stretch of grass, Sophie’s pulse sped at the sight of the driver wearing a bonnet and skirt. Was it one of her sisters?
The woman shifted so that Sophie could make out her features, and her pulse lurched again before sputtering to a stop. It wasn’t Elise or Marianne.
It was Mrs. Ramsey.
The moment she brought the wagon to a halt next to theirs, something wiggled underneath a blanket in the wagon bed. A second later, a head emerged from one end and a pale face peeked out. “Are we there yet?” came a familiar voice.
“Nicholas?” Olivia said, jumping up from Jakob’s lap.
Sophie’s heart jumped just as suddenly. This was one of those moments when she was tempted to rush forward and try to seize control like she had at church. She wanted to scoop Nicholas up again and run far away where no one could take the little boy from her.
After holding him on Sunday, after feeling his thin arms around her neck and his satin hair against her cheek, her heart ached to hug him. But she forced herself not to move and to hand control over to God.
Nicholas stood, letting the blanket fall away. He glanced at Olivia, his eyes registering surprise. Then he looked at Mrs. Ramsey as though he didn’t know whether to greet his sister or climb under the blanket again.
Mrs. Ramsey twisted on the wagon bench. Only then did Sophie read the sadness in the woman’s tired eyes. “Yes, we’re here.”
At Nicholas’s hesitation, Olivia paused at the edge of the wagon. She turned her attention to Mrs. Ramsey, her expression suddenly wary.
It was clear neither of the children understood why Mrs. Ramsey had driven to their home, especially after all the efforts the Ramseys had made to shelter Nicholas.
Sophie didn’t understand either. The need to run over to Nicholas swelled inside so that she reached for Reinhold. She needed him, needed his strength, needed his help to hold her back. Her hand found his. She didn’t care that her fingers trembled.
His fingers quickly enfolded hers. In a slight squeeze he communicated to her that he was with her in this difficulty, that they were in it together.
She squeezed back her appreciation.
“Good morning, Mrs. Ramsey,” Reinhold said. “What can we do for you?”
“My husband discovered that your wife’s family is arriving this morning,” she said softly. “And he instructed me to take Nicholas visiting for the day.”
“So that you’d be away from the house if anyone came to see Nicholas?” Sophie’s bitter question popped out before she could stop it.
Mrs. Ramsey nodded, her stooped posture one of defeat, not defiance. “I usually visit my sister down near Dresden. And this time I told my husband we’d stay a couple of days, maybe even a week before returning. My daughter Rachel is old enough to help at home while I’m gone.”
Mrs. Ramsey was certainly ensuring that Marianne and Drew wouldn’t be able to take Nicholas away, at least not this week. Did Mrs. Ramsey expect gratitude for coming and informing them of her plans? Sophie bit back her caustic response.
The woman began to descend from the wagon bench. As her shawl fell away and her sleeve rose, Sophie saw the bruises. Unmistakable welts in the form of fingerprints. The sight didn’t surprise Sophie, not after the way Mr. Ramsey had so easily slapped her. Olivia had reassured her that Mr. Ramsey hadn’t ever laid a hand on her or Nicholas or even their daughter Rachel. But he had no qualms about hitting full-grown women.
Sophie felt pity for Mrs. Ramsey while also offering up a prayer of gratefulness that Reinhold was working on handling his anger. Although she’d never met Reinhold’s father, she’d heard the stories about his rage, about the fits he’d fall into, breaking and smashing everything in his path, and getting into fights at work and the tavern. She was confident Reinhold was well on his way to being a different man from his father—if he’d ever been like him.
With her feet planted on the ground, Mrs. Ramsey adjusted her sleeve and shawl before rounding the wagon. She reached inside for a small grain sack, lifted it out, and placed it on the grass.
“Come now, Nicholas,” she said and stretched out her arms.
Nicholas scrambled to her. “I can get out?”