by Erica Vetsch
For the first time, Oscar realized how empty his house would feel with them gone. He shook his head. What a silly thought. They’d only been there a few days. He’d go back to his old ways just as quickly when they’d left.
“We must start a clothing drive,” Mrs. Tipford said. “I should’ve thought about it before now. Martin and Inge won’t be hard to clothe, but Kate is another matter. Perhaps Mrs. Frankel would have some clothing that would work for Kate in her current condition.”
Oscar studied Kate, who had stepped out into the aisle. She wore the same dress she had worn each of the last few days. Of course she had. Because she’d lost all her other clothes in the fire. And what had Oscar done about it?
Nothing.
Guilt nudged him. He knew what he should do, but...no. He couldn’t. God wouldn’t ask him to do that, would He?
“George said he delivered a telegram to Martin yesterday. Good news, I hope?” Mrs. Tipford waved to someone across the room.
Oscar adjusted Liesl in his arms. “You’ll have to speak with them about that.” Mrs. Tipford was a good woman, but she liked to know what was going on with the people of her husband’s church, as if she had some proprietary claim. It wasn’t that she was nosy like Mrs. Hale, looking for tidbits of news to share with her customers, but Mrs. Tipford did like to ferret out people’s needs and plans whenever she could. But Oscar wouldn’t be her source this time. If she wanted to find out what the Amakers’ situation was, she’d have to ask them.
“It’s so good to see you here today, Oscar.” Pastor Tipford’s voice thundered and heads turned. No way Oscar could just slip out quietly now. In one, loud blast, everyone knew he was here. Mrs. Tipford nudged her husband and pointed to Liesl. The pastor grimaced and lowered his voice to a whisper that still traveled several feet. “Sorry, didn’t realize she was asleep. Oscar, I was going to head out to your place for a visit this afternoon. To check on the Amakers and see what they’d learned. Perhaps you can all stay a bit after other folks have left, and we can sort a few things out.”
Oscar nodded and edged through the knots of people until he stood with his back to the wall, waiting for the place to clear out.
When it was just the Amakers and Tipfords left, the pastor directed them to sit in the front pews while he scooted the organ stool over and took a seat facing them. Oscar remained standing, swaying slightly to rock Liesl.
“Now, Martin, I understand you’ve heard from your brother. What did he say, and how can we help?” Pastor Tipford asked.
Martin unfolded the telegram and handed it to the pastor.
“So, they have a place for you, but not until after the new year.” Returning the telegram to Martin, the preacher put his big hands on his knees. “That’s very generous of your brother.”
Oscar watched Kate, who had her head bowed and her fingertips against her lips. Tiny wisps of brown hair teased the nape of her neck under her upswept hair, making her look vulnerable and fragile.
He knew she was strong. He’d watched her work hard all day yesterday making the cheeses, and he knew that if he hadn’t been there to help her, she would’ve done it all alone.
She had survived the loss of her husband and her home, and though he had heard her crying once in the privacy of her room, he hadn’t seen her break down or despair.
She cared for her husband’s grandparents as if they were her own, tending them, respecting them, putting their needs ahead of hers.
She was definitely strong.
But who took care of her? Who listened when she needed to talk? Who shouldered her burdens and lightened her load?
“So.” Mrs. Tipford drew his attention back to the conversation. “What do you want to do? The Bakers and Freidmans are still willing to have you.” She cast an inquiring look Oscar’s way. “But if things are working out for you to stay where you are, that’s fine, too, isn’t it?”
Oscar remained motionless, but inside, he was shaking his head. Yesterday he had outlined some very good reasons why the Amakers should find somewhere else to stay. He needed to think about what was best in the long run for himself and Liesl, didn’t he?
Martin and Inge looked up at him, no expression on their faces beyond weary acceptance of whatever he decided. Pastor and Mrs. Tipford had their heads together, no doubt discussing logistics and plans of action for when he refused.
Then Kate looked up. Her eyes weren’t exactly pleading with him, but there was a hope there that shook him.
“It’s working out all right for now. They might as well stay at my place. After all, it’s only for a few weeks.” He heard himself say the words, make the offer that he had promised himself he wouldn’t. But when she looked at him like that, what else could he do?
He could keep to himself over the next few weeks, that’s what. Though he worried about Liesl’s growing attachment to the Amakers, he would have a word with Kate about it. She would understand and take pains to keep things aloof.
* * *
A tiny corona of warmth glowed around Kate’s heart as she entered Oscar’s house and pulled off her gloves. Being in church had felt like rain on parched soil. Her burdens and responsibilities were the same, and yet, they were lighter, too, through having her spirit fed through worship and fellowship.
Rich aromas greeted her. Grossmutter had put a chicken into the oven to roast before leaving for church, and now, she shed her coat and kerchief and checked on the bird.
“How can I help?” Kate asked.
“Kate.” Oscar took her coat and hung it up. “I’d like a word with you, if you don’t mind.”
He’d been quiet on the way to his farm, but then again, he was usually quiet. She’d been afraid to hope that he would let them stay on at his place for a little while longer, and when he had offered, it had been all she could do not to jump up and hug him.
Not that she was jumping much these days. She pressed her hands to her lower back as she followed him through the sitting room and into his workshop. Accustomed all her life to being slim and agile, carrying this baby was difficult to get used to. And it was only going to get worse. If only she wasn’t so short. Her center of gravity had altered, making her slow, and clumsy.
Oscar leaned against the workbench. Behind him, the walnut wedding chest was taking shape. Last night when she’d brought him his cup of coffee, he had been using a hand plane to smooth the joints where he had glued boards together, running his hand over the wood, and switching from the plane to a piece of sandpaper as he worked. When he’d finished, she couldn’t feel a single joint it was so smooth.
Now he crossed his arms, his face sober.
She hurried to speak. “I can’t thank you enough for extending hospitality to us again. We’re very grateful. I know we could stay separately with other families, but it means so much to me not to be parted from Martin and Inge. And with the baby coming...” She laughed. “It was beginning to feel a bit like a trip to Bethlehem. ‘No room at the inn.’” She pressed her lips together. “Anyway, I am grateful.”
He nodded, but his face went from sober to grim. “I wanted to talk to you about that, and a couple other things. Have you seen a doctor about the baby?”
She shook her head. “No, but you don’t have to worry. I am young and healthy, and the baby is quite active.” As if to illustrate her point, the baby kicked her ribs, and she placed her hand on the spot. His eyes followed the movement. “There wasn’t much money before, and even less now. We can’t pay for unnecessary doctor’s visits. Grossmutter will be with me when the time comes. That’s all I need.”
“I would prefer if you at least got checked out by the doctor, just to make sure things are all right. I’ll drive you to Mantorville myself, tomorrow.” He nodded, as if his plan was quite reasonable.
“But I told you, I’m fine, and there’s no money for a doctor right now.” Though she could pay h
im with a cheese, she supposed, if he was willing to barter. And if Oscar would take her to Mantorville, she could possibly make arrangements with the stores there to buy her cheeses. Some of the early-summer ones could be sold now, as well as the largest wheels from last year. She drummed her fingers on the table, thinking.
“It would set my mind to rest,” Oscar said.
He had asked for nothing from them in return for his hospitality. Surely she could do this one thing, though she felt it unnecessary.
“All right.”
He lowered his arms and turned away, bracing his weight on his palms on the workbench. His suspenders crossed on his back, black against the white of his Sunday shirt. The shirt was in need of a good ironing, as if it had lain folded in a drawer for a very long time.
“Did Mrs. Tipford talk to you about some clothes?” he asked.
Kate glanced down at her dress. Though she laid it out every night, and sponged it, the garment needed a good washing. And she would dearly love a change from the skin out. Still, she should be thankful for what she had.
“She didn’t say anything to me, but if we’re going to Mantorville tomorrow, perhaps we can stop at the farm and pick up some cheeses to take with us. I can sell them at the store and perhaps have enough for a few clothes or, at the very least, a few lengths of fabric to make some.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, and then, “My wife left some things. They might be a bit long and need hemmed up, but they should work for you.” He didn’t turn around.
Wear his dead wife’s clothes? As grateful as she would be for something else to wear, how would she feel using a dead woman’s things? How would that make him feel?
“Are you sure?”
“No sense letting them go to waste when someone could use them.” His voice sounded forced, harsh. “Mrs. Tipford said she’d be by with some things for Martin and Inge, but finding clothing for you might be a bit tougher. But my wife was in the same condition...” His shoulders hunched and his head lowered.
She wanted to go to him, to put her hand on his back, to say she appreciated his sacrifice, his generosity, but something held her back.
He seemed to get hold of himself, and when he turned around, there was no vulnerability in his eyes or his voice.
“There’s one other thing we need to talk about.”
“Yes?”
“It’s Liesl. Before you came, she hadn’t met many strangers. For quite a while, it was just her and me. It appears she’s taking quite a shine to you. All three of you. But I don’t want her getting too attached. I didn’t say anything right away, because I thought you’d only be here a day or two, or at most a week. But things are different now. You’re going to be here a couple of months, and when you leave, it’s going to go hard on her if you’ve gotten close.”
Kate’s brows rose. “What is it you want us to do?” She couldn’t rebuff the child. Was she supposed to ignore her? Not answer her thousand and one questions? Not braid her hair or read her stories or...
Oscar scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe just remind her from time to time that you’ll be leaving soon. That way, maybe she’ll be more ready for it when it happens. And another thing, she’s still holding on to the idea that I can get her a baby for Christmas. Maybe, if we don’t talk about your baby when she’s around, we can try to get her thinking about something else as a Christmas gift?” He shrugged. “Anyway, I just don’t want her to be disappointed or hurt when things don’t work out the way she hopes. When she gets her heart set on something, it can be hard to budge her.”
Kate could understand his concern, but she didn’t know how to prevent herself from caring about Liesl, or to stop the little girl from caring about her. And the bond between Grossmutter and Liesl was a beautiful thing.
“It will be difficult on everyone when we go.” Well, perhaps not difficult for Oscar. He seemed to be doing a fine job holding himself aloof. “And I don’t think you can stop Grossmutter from talking about Christmas. It’s her favorite time of the year.” And for Grossmutter, the celebration started weeks ahead of time with the planning and preparing. “She’s been through so much this year, I don’t want to dampen any joy she might get out of the Christmas season. But I’ll speak with her.”
He nodded. “I’ll show you where the clothes are.”
Upstairs, in the room she had been using, he knelt before a dome-topped trunk under the window and drew a key out of his pocket. “Mrs. Tipford packed these things away for me right after the funeral.”
Small feet clattered on the stairs, and Liesl bounded into the room. “Grossmutter says dinner is ready.”
“Liesl, you should call her Mrs. Amaker. She isn’t your grandmother.” Oscar rested his hands on the closed trunk lid.
The little girl wrinkled her nose and tilted her head, clearly puzzled. Kate’s heart went out to Liesl. Oscar was asking the impossible—for the Amakers not to care about his daughter, and for Liesl not to care about them. Still, Liesl was his daughter, and the Amakers would need to respect his wishes.
Oscar unlocked and opened the trunk, the scent of lavender rolling out. He stepped back, putting his hands in his pockets. “You’re welcome to whatever might work for you.”
“Thank you.” Kate moved aside a layer of tissue paper. Mrs. Tipford had wrapped everything with care. A cheesecloth sachet of lavender buds lay atop the clothes. She blinked. Lavender was one of her favorite scents, and she’d kept a crystal bottle of lavender water on her dressing table, a gift from Johann.
“What’s that?” Liesl asked.
Kate lifted it and smelled it, inhaling the herbaceous, floral scent, and then she held it under Liesl’s nose. “It’s called a sachet, and ladies use it in their dressers and armoires to keep their clothes smelling nice. I had some sachets like this once.” Before her house burned down. “I love the scent of lavender.”
Liesl breathed in deeply and then sneezed, giggling. “Daddy, can I have some in my dresser, like a grown-up lady?”
Kate looked at Oscar, holding the lacy bundle and tilting her head toward Liesl. At his nod, she handed the sachet to the child. “You may have this one.”
“Thank you.” She hugged Kate’s side and scampered out, no doubt to put the scented packet in her room.
Oscar followed her, pausing at the door, but continuing on, his boots thumping on the stairs.
Kate lifted the first garment from the trunk, grateful to be alone. The maternity clothes were on top, which made sense. A blue dress with black trim, and a brown dress with small, red flowers scattered over it. She held the brown one up to her, testing the length of the sleeves and the hem. Gaelle Rabb must’ve been several inches taller than Kate.
Beneath those two garments in the trunk lay a lovely red shawl. Red was Kate’s favorite color, and she had used it whenever she could in trims and accents in her own clothes.
Under the shawl, Kate found a heavy, burgundy cloak. She held it up, feeling the weight. Something to wear other than Johann’s coat.
A tap sounded on the doorframe. It was Oscar, holding a lidded, square basket. “Thought you could use this.” His eyes went to the cloak and flicked away. “Sewing kit.”
“Oscar.” It was the first time she had called him by name, and he went still, his hand gripping the doorframe. Kate swallowed, and took a deep breath. “Are you sure about this?” She wondered how she would feel if it was a neighbor going through her husband’s things, preparing to wear his clothes.
He nodded. “The clothes aren’t doing anyone any good packed away. I should’ve given them to Mrs. Tipford a long time ago, so she could hand them out to folks in need. I guess now I’m glad I didn’t.”
Again Kate had that feeling, the feeling that she wanted to go to him, to touch his shoulder or squeeze his hand, to let him know that she understood hi
s loss, the need to move forward but the reluctance to do so, to comfort him.
And perhaps to be comforted, too.
Chapter Seven
Kate rode beside Oscar in the farm wagon, heading south to Mantorville, the midmorning sun bright and almost no wind. The overnight frost had long since melted away, promising a lovely fall day, warm for this time of year. She’d left her coat behind, opting for the red shawl instead.
Oscar pulled his hat down, shading his eyes. “I’m of half a mind to bring Martin’s cows over to my byre to save on time going between the farms. I’ve got the room, especially since I moved the young bullocks out to the pasture with the shed.” He shook up the reins. “And I was of half a mind to bring Martin with us today and have the doctor check out his cough. I could hear him all over the barn when we were milking this morning. I asked, but he refused to come, said he would be fine.”
“I wish you had been able to persuade him. He was ill last winter with the same cough, and it lasted for months. Grossmutter is worried about him, too. I feel guilty going to see the doctor when I’m healthy, and he’s in need and staying home.” Kate shifted on the hard wagon seat. Finding a comfortable position...any comfortable position...was proving more difficult these days.
“You both need to see the doc.” He glanced behind him into the wagon box. Thirty-two cheeses rested on a bed of straw, each carefully sewn into a cheesecloth bag. “I’m glad you’re done making new cheese for the winter. Now that you’ve shown me which ones need brushed and turned in the cheese house, you can leave that chore to me.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s my job. You have enough to do with your own chores and your woodworking and all.” He’d insisted she stay home this morning and finish the hemming she and Grossmutter had started the afternoon before to alter Gaelle’s dresses to fit her. Kate wore the brown and red dress, which matched the red shawl perfectly. When Oscar had first seen her in the new-to-her clothes, he’d looked thoughtful, but said nothing. She didn’t know if she was disappointed or relieved at his reaction, but it felt nice to have fresh clothes to wear.