by Erica Vetsch
Liesl’s smile was Kate’s answer. The little girl loved games.
“Watch.” Kate drew in the flour a capital A with her finger. “This is A. A for apple. Can you make one?”
Liesl drew a lopsided A.
“Beautiful. Now try this one.” Kate drew a B. “B makes a ‘buh’ sound. What word starts with a buh sound?”
“Buh...baby!” Liesl beamed.
“That’s right. B is for baby.” Kate hugged her. Liesl had stubbornly clung to the notion that she would receive a baby for Christmas, though she didn’t speak of it as often now.
They continued to make letters in the dusting of flour, wiping it smooth over and over. The kitchen smelled of yeasty bread and the stew simmering on the back of the stove. The wind blew hard, and Grossmutter lit the lamp against the falling darkness.
Everything was cozy, but Kate found herself uneasy. Rolf, too, seemed unsettled, pacing from room to room, head up, sniffing the air.
“I’d best bundle up and finish the barn chores before it gets too bad outside.” Kate brushed her hands together to rid them of flour, and stood. Even Johann’s big coat didn’t quite meet over her middle anymore, but she buttoned it as far as she could. The burgundy cloak was too nice to wear for doing barn work. “Chores will take me a while, so don’t worry. And I’ll bring Rolf with me.”
Grossmutter handed her a pair of mittens from the box by the door. They must be Oscar’s, because they almost fell off Kate’s hands, but they would help keep her warm. “We will have hot stew and bread when you come in, and I will keep water on for tea.”
The cold sliced through Kate’s coat and made her shiver as she walked down to the barn. Icy hard snowflakes stung her cheeks, and she pulled her scarf higher to cover her nose. The lantern guttered and sputtered. Rolf stayed by her side, head low as they leaned into the north wind. She thought of Martin and Oscar, traveling home in this weather. Surely the storm would delay them. Hopefully, they were somewhere warm and dry, waiting it out.
Stepping into the barn was like someone slamming a door. Quiet, warmth, the smell of bovines, hay, dust and grain. Kate took a few deep breaths and hung the lantern on a peg high on a post.
She’d brought the cattle in this morning in anticipation of the storm. Oscar’s little Jersey and all ten of the Brown Swiss. They stood in a row down the byre, tails out, some lying down, all quiet. Only two of the cows were still giving milk, less than a gallon each, so milking wouldn’t take long. The heifer calves shared a pen down at the far end.
Kate opened the back door of the barn, and the cattle filed out to the water trough. A thin sheet of ice covered the surface, and she broke it with the hatchet tied there. While the cattle milled outside, drinking their fill, she returned to the barn to clean up and spread fresh straw. She filled the mangers, always easier when the byre was empty.
When she let the cows back inside, they each went to their place and began tearing at the hay in the racks. She milked quickly and, because they still had plenty of milk in the house, poured the two buckets into the metal trough in the calf pen, saving out a small pan for the barn cats.
With only the chickens to feed, Kate went into the granary. The coop was attached to the barn, so she didn’t need to go outside. A dozen reddish-brown hens and one cranky rooster clucked and pecked in the straw. She tossed down a couple of ears of dry corn and a turnip for them to squabble over and filled the feed pans with cracked corn. They still had plenty of water.
One last check that everything was secure for the night, and she was ready to brave the cold again. Rolf met her at the door, but as she latched it behind her, his head came up and he gave a bark, disappearing into the swirl of snowflakes.
“Rolf, come!” she shouted, but her words were sucked away. The dog had bounded away into the dark and swirling flakes. Kate trudged up the path, careful where she stepped, watchful of not slipping in the snow that was piling up, ankle-deep already. She held the lantern high to light the way, and every few steps, she stopped and called for the dog.
He barked from somewhere up ahead, and emerged from the darkness, only to turn and run away again. Kate was almost to the front porch, eager to get inside, when she heard a rattling sound. She listened hard, tugging the scarf off her ears.
It was a wagon, hoofbeats, snow-muffled, but unmistakable. Who would be out on a night like this?
Whoever it was, they turned into the farm lane. The sounds grew nearer. Kate raised the lantern, and through the blowing snow, she saw the heads and shoulders of a pair of horses. Then their bodies, and finally the wagon they pulled. A figure sat high on the seat, hunched and bundled, snow on his shoulders and hat. Rolf leaped and ran, circling the wagon, barking. The horses paid him no mind, heads lowered into the wind.
Behind the wagon, another team emerged from the darkness, and Kate’s heart leaped. Schwarz and Grau, Martin’s farm horses.
The first driver pulled up in front of the house and raised his head.
Oscar.
Her heart bumped hard against her ribs. He was home. They were home.
“What are you doing out here?” He tugged down the muffler over his face and beard. “Get inside before you freeze. We’ll be in soon.” He slapped the lines and headed toward the barn.
His voice was gently chiding, and she hurried to obey.
“Liesl, Inge, they’re home.” She burst into the kitchen. “Oscar and Martin. They’re just putting away the horses, and then they’ll be here.” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice, the joy at having the menfolk safely home.
Inge looked at her with speculation in her eyes, and Kate felt heat rush to her cheeks.
“I was afraid they might be caught out somewhere in the storm,” she hurried to explain. “I didn’t want Martin’s cough to return, and I was hoping they were somewhere safe. Liesl, why don’t you set the table? I’ll start the fire in the parlor fireplace.”
Kate took off her coat and gloves and scarf, trying to cover her confusion. It really was only relief that they were safe, wasn’t it? But if that was it, why was her heart thrumming so fast and her skin tingling?
Liesl happily plunked cutlery onto the table. Inge checked the bread in the oven, and Kate opened the parlor doors wide. She swept the ashes out of the fireplace and laid a new fire, hoping to take the chill out of the room so they could all retire there after supper. She angled Oscar’s chair just right and straightened the afghan covering before she caught herself.
She really was only glad they were soon to be out of the storm. That’s all there was to it.
* * *
Oscar was mighty glad to be out of the storm. His hands hurt, his feet were numb and his lungs felt as if someone had scoured them out with broken glass. The barn was warm and quiet, smelling of grass and grain and cattle.
In spite of his best efforts, he hadn’t made it home in time to prevent Kate from doing the evening chores. He had hoped to spare her that. It had been one of the worst parts about leaving and taking Martin with him, knowing Kate would have to see to the barn chores all by herself.
But as he curried the tired horses, he looked around the barn. He couldn’t fault her. She’d done a very good job. Everything was right and tight. By lantern light, he and Martin finished with the horses, and he dumped a generous portion of grain into each feedbox and made sure the water buckets were full. “Have a good rest, boys. You’ve earned it.”
And so had he and Martin. He followed the older man up to the house, peace settling over him as the light from the windows shone out on the snow even though his muscles ached from the long, tense ride. It had been a quite a spell since he’d felt a peaceful homecoming.
A gust of warm air hit him as he stepped into the kitchen, and the smell of supper and hot bread wrapped around him. He hadn’t even stomped the snow off his boots before Liesl had launched
herself into his arms. He held her away.
“Whoa there, tornado. Let me get out of my snow duds first or you’ll get chilled.”
“I missed you, Daddy. I counted every day, see?” She pointed to the wall calendar, red X’s marching like soldiers across the lines. “And we sewed and baked, and I learned some of my letters.”
This week was the longest he’d been separated from Liesl since she was born, and he’d felt every minute of their time apart, but oddly, he hadn’t worried about her, knowing she’d be well cared for in his absence.
The minute he was free of his coat, he scooped her up and kissed her cheek. She patted his beard. “Your face is cold!”
“All of me is cold. You’d think it was January out there instead of November. And after such a mild fall.” He went to the stove and sniffed, Liesl perched on his forearm. “What’s that cooking? Is that possum fritters and bullfrog soup?” He waggled his eyebrows at Liesl.
She giggled. “No, Daddy. It’s stew. And bread. We made Zoffy bread today.”
“Zoffy?”
“Mmm-hmm. Grossmutter says it’s special Sunday bread, but we should have it now because you would be coming home soon. But we thought you wouldn’t come home till tomorrow or the next tomorrow.”
“We decided we didn’t want to stay away so long. That supper smells good, and I’m so hungry I could eat a whole possum, fur and all.” He smiled at Inge. “Hello, Mrs. Amaker. I’ve been thinking about your cooking the whole week. We sure didn’t have anything as good out on the road.”
Martin came and put his arm around his wife, bending to whisper something in her ear that put a sparkle in her eyes. She leaned into him for a moment, resting her white head on his shoulder before straightening up and moving toward the stove.
“Come, sit. We will eat, and you will tell us about your journey.” Inge put a loaf of braided bread on a cutting board on the table. “The Zopf is still very hot, but we will have it now, anyway.”
Kate stood off to the side, watching. She had a wistful look on her face, and it hit Oscar that he had Liesl, and Martin had Inge to greet, but Kate had no one special coming home to her.
“Hello, Kate.” He put Liesl into her chair and scooted it in for her. Rolf twined around his legs, snuffling and wiggling. “Everything looks fine down in the barn. I’m sorry you had to do the chores tonight. We were hoping to get back in time, but the storm held us up.” He pushed aside Rolf’s wet nose and pulled out a chair for her.
She sat, lowering herself carefully, hand braced against her belly. “Was it a successful trip?”
Martin dug into his pocket and handed her a slip of paper. “This is another reason we were late. We stopped in town.”
She took the paper, scanning it quickly, then bit her lip, tears springing into her eyes. “Is this real?”
He nodded. “We sold all the cheeses, and there was enough to pay the mortgage on the herd with some left over. We can make this year’s payment on the farm mortgage, or we can save it for if we move to Cincinnati.”
Oscar hated to think of them leaving the area, but he was glad they would have at least a little nest egg when they went.
“If and when we sell the herd, at least they will be freehold.” Martin sighed. “We could sell most of them and pay the entire mortgage on the farm off, but without the herd, there would be no more cheeses, and no money still to build a house. I have wrestled with the problem every way I can think of, but I cannot see a way we can stay on the farm. Even if the house had not burned down, without Johann it was going to be hard.”
Oscar and Martin had discussed it at length on the trip. Martin worried about “his girls” as he called them. And Oscar got a glimpse of how much Martin did not want to have to take them to his brother’s place in Cincinnati.
Kate folded the paper again and slid it across to Martin. “At least the herd isn’t mortgaged any longer. I’m glad of that. It felt wrong the whole time. Mortgaging land is one thing, but this felt like getting a loan on friends.” She turned to Oscar, and the force of the blue in her eyes jabbed him in the chest. “Was your trip successful, as well?”
“It was. The buyers were pleased with the commissioned pieces, and I sold the two extra bureaus I took along.” And they’d sold well, too. He’d never made so much money on his furniture before.
“Were you able to complete your shopping?” She inclined her head slightly toward Liesl, who was busy with her supper.
“I found a few things.” Including a length of pink fabric with blue flowers. He’d ask Kate to sew up a Christmas dress for Liesl to wear to the Star Singing, since she now had her heart set on participating. And he’d found a little something for each of the Amakers.
Christmas shopping had never been so difficult. When he’d been married, Gaelle had made it easy for him, giving him a list of three or four things, saying she’d be happy with anything. And she was, being a generally happy person. Anything he made or bought for her had brought smiles and kisses.
“While you were gone, Mrs. Tipford came by to finalize the plans for the Advent window tour, and she brought Liesl a little present.” Kate spread butter on a slice of bread and put it on Liesl’s plate.
“Oh, yes, Daddy. Look what she brought.” Liesl slid off her chair and ran into the parlor, returning with a worn bundle of papers. “It’s a whole catalog.” She flopped the tattered book onto the table.
“Mrs. Tipford said she found it in a cupboard in the church basement,” Kate explained. “She thought Liesl might like looking at the pictures. I think we’ve been over every page at least three times, haven’t we, sweetling?”
“I like the toys and the dishes best.” Liesl climbed into her chair once more. “And the hats and shoes. Daddy, did you know you could buy a hat with a bird on it?”
“Ah, so, is a bird hat what you want for Christmas now?” he teased.
She shook her head, eyeing him soberly. “No, Daddy. Not a hat with a bird.”
So she hadn’t abandoned the idea of a baby for Christmas. He only hoped the idea he’d come up with on the drive home from Saint Paul would please her. He’d have to consult Kate and enlist her help later.
After supper, he rose and stretched. “That chair in the parlor is mighty tempting, but I had better get into the wood shop. I have a few more Christmas orders to complete for folks around here, and they won’t finish themselves.”
Liesl pushed her chair up to the bench. “After I help Grossmutter with the dishes, can I come play in the workroom?”
“Sure, Poppet. I’d like that.” It was how they spent most winter evenings before they’d taken in houseguests, him working on a piece of furniture and Liesl playing under the table with the shavings and wood scraps. He’d missed her chattery company.
He pushed open the door to the shop, inhaling the familiar scents of cut wood and linseed oil. This was the one place that usually brought him comfort...which had been hard to come by the past few weeks. Lighting the fire in the small woodstove helped take the chill from the room, and he went to the rack to select some of the special stock he’d purchased at the sawmill in Mantorville. The plans for a hall tree lay on his workbench, and once that was finished, a whatnot needed to be stained and varnished. And there was the project that has been forming in the back of his mind for a while, but that would have to wait until other work was done.
“Daddy.” Liesl skipped into the room. “Do you have some little pieces for me? I want to build something.”
It was a common request, and Oscar slid a box out from under the bench with his boot toe. “I’ve been saving these for you.”
She pounced on the box, dumping the contents onto the floor with a clatter. Ends of boards, a bit of crown molding, a chipped spindle he’d had to abandon when a knot blew out as he was turning it on the lathe. To him they were orts, but to Liesl, they were treas
ures and fuel for her lively imagination.
Kate tapped on the door, bringing in a tray with coffee cups and a glass of milk. “Martin and Inge have gone upstairs to bed already. I think the trip tired out Martin more than he wanted anyone to know.”
Oscar took the tray and set it on the workbench. He had also missed the nightly routine of drinking coffee with Kate in his workroom. “He was a man on a mission. I could hardly keep up with him as we went from store to store. He’s proud of you, told every shopkeeper we talked to about how good you were at cheese making. Said your Swiss-style cheese was the best to be found outside the Alps.”
She smiled fondly. “He’s such a sweet man.” Her face sobered. “I can’t imagine him being a janitor in a factory in the middle of a big city. It will crush the life out of him.”
Oscar picked up a wood plane and drew it over the edge of a drawer, flicking the long curl of poplar under the table for Liesl. He felt so helpless in the face of the Amakers’ troubles. All they wanted was to stay on their farm, but it seemed as if everything conspired against them, and it all started with poor choices...
“If it weren’t for the loans on the cattle and land, you wouldn’t be in this fix. Every cent you have is going to service the loans, and there’s nothing to build another house with. If you didn’t have the initial loan, the bank would advance you enough to build, but a second mortgage is out of the question. What was your husband thinking? He put your whole way of life in jeopardy, and for what?”
He regretted the question the minute she sucked in a sharp breath. She set her coffee cup on the tray, her lips tight. “Johann was forward thinking. A visionary. He had big dreams and plans, and he wasn’t afraid to take risks. He mortgaged the farm to build a house big enough for his grandparents, his wife and his future children. And he mortgaged his herd to buy better bloodlines, because he dreamed of enlarging our cheese-making business and breeding better cattle.” She blinked, her hand going to her unborn child. “Everything he did was to make a better future for us. There was no way he could anticipate that his life would be cut off too soon.”