Gretchen squealed and a smile danced to life.
She reached eagerly for the dog, but Annalisa held her back. “Nein, liebchen. Let him wake up first.”
Gently Carl helped the puppy to sit up and directed his nose toward the quail. When the pup bent his head and began to eat, Carl grinned. “I always say, there’s nothing like a good meal to win a man’s heart.”
Gretchen giggled.
Carl couldn’t imagine a sweeter sound.
And when Annalisa looked at him, this time tears pooled in her eyes. The gratefulness there took his breath away. As her lips curved into a smile—a smile meant just for him—he couldn’t think of anything more he wanted.
His gaze lingered on her lips, the gently rounded curves, the sweet fullness, the tantalizing strawberry red . . .
Maybe he could think of something more he wanted.
Her smile faded.
He lifted his eyes to hers, expecting revulsion, or at the very least the cold distance that was normally there. He was surprised when instead he found her staring at his lips, her head tilted and curiosity brimming in her eyes, almost as if she’d never been kissed.
Undoubtedly she’d been kissed plenty of times—by her husband. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he just as quickly dismissed it. He wasn’t naive. He knew kissing wasn’t necessary for mating, that plenty of loveless marriages lacked passion and intimacy, like his parents’. In fact, he couldn’t recall his father ever once kissing his mother.
Annalisa glanced up, and seeing that he’d caught her looking at his mouth, she dropped her attention to her hands. Shyness flooded her face.
He fought the urge to pull her into another embrace. Even though he’d stolen kisses from women in the past, he knew this was neither the time nor place.
Annalisa was not like the frivolous women he’d known. She was hardworking, determined, and resourceful. She loved Gretchen with a passion he admired. And she was beautiful, with echoes of strength deep inside waiting to be released.
She didn’t deserve a shallow, flirtatious relationship with him. She didn’t need a man toying with her emotions. Especially a man like him who couldn’t give her the kind of commitment and stability she needed.
Besides, even if there weren’t so many differences between them, there was still one very big, unmovable obstacle standing between them.
Her groom. And he’d be arriving any day, expecting to marry Annalisa, take over the farm, and have a better life here in America.
He shifted his attention to Snowdrop, who was chomping on the quail that was to have been his supper. Gretchen stroked the puppy, joy shimmering in her eyes.
Carl pushed away from the bedstead and rose, unwinding his stiff limbs, stifling a groan of frustration. He’d only be setting them all up for misery if he didn’t keep his distance.
He glanced to the door. Everything within him urged him to leave, to run away, just as he’d done in all the difficult situations in his past.
But deep in his heart he knew he couldn’t run. Not now. Not when Annalisa was in so much danger with Ward, not when she needed his help and protection.
The only thing he could do was wait and pray that her groom arrived soon . . . before he did something he would regret.
Chapter
8
At the sound of horses’ hooves outside the barn, Annalisa’s stomach quivered with something close to anticipation.
Carl was coming in from the fields at last.
She brushed a stray piece of straw from the clean shirt she’d laid out for him. And then she dipped her finger into the tub of water. It wasn’t as hot as when she’d poured the last kettle of boiling water into it, but it was still warm enough.
The lantern hanging from the center beam cast a pale glow over the stall she’d cleaned out for him. Everything was ready—from the grainy bar of lye soap to the crock of salve to the thin towel.
Across the U-shaped haymow, the little red-and-white-spotted cow Mathilda chewed on her ground corn and sent Annalisa puzzled glances above the rail, as if to ask why she was still in the barn so long after the evening milking.
The grunts of the sow finishing her meal came from the other side of the barn wall, in the muddy pen. The pig didn’t seem to mind being turned out of her home so that Vater’s horse could have shelter during the rest of the plowing. But she’d have to bring the sow back into the barn soon to provide her with better protection. Earlier in the spring she’d mated the pig with one of Vater’s boars. If all went as planned, the sow would soon farrow piglets and would have need of her stall again.
By then, Carl would be done with the plowing . . . she hoped.
Even though he’d worked steadily and without complaint, he was slow and awkward with the horses and the equipment. He’d taken much too long, and Vater was complaining about needing his horse back.
She’d wanted to ask Carl more about his work in Saxony and how it was that he couldn’t do even the most basic things like draw water from the well or set a trap. But she knew it wasn’t her place to pry, that she needed to be grateful for his help, even if it was slow and put her crops behind even more.
At least she would get the seeds in the ground.
The barn door creaked open and the chill of the oncoming night swept into the barn, chasing away the damp warmth and the familiar musty scent of hay.
“Don’t complain about being hungry.” Carl chided the horses kindly. “At least you got your meal last night.”
Her lips twitched with the desire to smile. He had a soft spot for the animals and an endearing habit of chatting with them.
“I, on the other hand, gave up a tasty quail supper to the pup.” The horses’ bridles jangled as they stepped into the barn. He followed behind them, strands of his dark hair curling up around the rim of his hat.
Annalisa’s stomach fluttered. He’d been incredibly gallant to sacrifice his supper for Snowdrop. And while she’d wanted to give him something else to eat instead, he’d insisted on leaving for the evening.
After he’d gone, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d protected her from Ward, and how he’d held her. The thoughts had lingered all day too, especially when she’d caught glimpses of him in the field, and when she’d taken a meal to him at noon.
His arms had been gentle and yet so solid at the same time. And he’d touched her hair. No one had ever touched her hair before—not tenderly, not the way he had.
He sidled next to Old Red and began unbuckling the throatlatch strap, obviously not seeing her yet in the dim light of the stall. “I hate to say it, old boy,” he said, brushing a hand across Old Red’s withers as he lifted the bridle over the gelding’s head and worked the bit out of his mouth, “but I think you beasts get more to fill your bellies than your masters do.”
“That’s because the animals are important to our survival.” She stepped out of the shadows. “If they starve, then so will we.”
He straightened with a start. His brows furrowed above anxious eyes. “I told you to stay in the cabin after dark and keep the door locked.”
“Ward wouldn’t dare come out here two days in a row.” With Hans she would have been worried about his anger and the reprisal for disobeying. But with Carl, somehow she figured he’d forgive her once he realized why she’d gone against his orders.
Even so, she approached Old Red and Bets hesitantly. She dug a dried cob of corn out of her coat pocket and held it out to Old Red. The horse took the whole ear into his mouth at once, wallowing it around with a contented slurping. The cobs were a special treat, and Annalisa knew the horse wouldn’t drop it until he’d cleaned off every kernel.
Annalisa reached for Bets and took the reins. “I’ll finish grooming and feeding the horses.”
From the other side of the horse, Carl’s brows rose.
Now that he could manage the chores by himself, she knew it was unusual for her to be in the barn when he returned from the fields. And it was even odder for her to offer
to do his work.
She felt a tinge of embarrassment. Had she done the right thing? Or had she overstepped the boundaries of propriety?
“You’re very kind to offer to do my work, my lady,” he finally said with a half grin. “But I’ve learned a thing or two about horses over the past week, and I don’t think they’re disliking my ministrations quite so much anymore.”
She combed her fingers through Old Red’s mane and then into the forelock. “I do believe they’ve begun to tolerate you some.”
His grin inched higher. “Some?”
“Only a little.” Warmth curled around her heart, as it did whenever she entered into playful banter with him.
The dark brown of his eyes sparkled. “I suppose if I were to feed them corn every time I came into the barn, they’d like me better too.”
“Perhaps.”
“Or maybe it’s not so much the corn they like as the pretty face behind it.”
Ja, she had done the right thing. She should have done it sooner. She smiled, then nodded to the tub nestled among the fresh straw she’d laid in the empty stall. “I’ve brought you hot water for a bath.”
He glanced toward the tin barrel that also served as her laundry tub. Although it was big, a lanky man like him would still be cramped. Steam spiraled from the water, and she could only pray it would stay warm for a few more moments.
“Apparently I’m not the only one who can’t stand the awfulness of my smell.”
“Nein,” she said. “I didn’t mean that . . .”
“I can admit it.” His grin spread. “I stink worse than hydrogen sulfide.”
She had no idea what hydrogen sulfide was, another of his big words that made her wish she were brave enough to ask him more about his past.
“So if I didn’t stink so badly, do you think the horses would like me better?”
“Ja.” Should she play along? What if she said the wrong thing?
He watched her as if waiting for her to say more, as if he wanted her to join in his easy way of relating—a way that was unusual for her, especially with a man.
“Old Red,” she said slowly, “has begged me these past days to do something about your smell.”
He laughed, and the rumble loosened her tense muscles.
But then his smile faded, and his gaze turned somber. “Thank you,” he said. The gratefulness in his eyes reached out to her. And something else lingered there too, the same thing she’d seen last night when they’d knelt beside the bed together. She couldn’t say what it was, except that she’d wanted to be closer to him, to feel his arms around her again.
“You don’t know how many times I’ve wished to shed the grime of these past weeks.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t make a bath for you sooner.”
“Providing me with baths wasn’t part of our bargain.”
Neither was saving the life of a tiny puppy or rescuing her from Ward’s conniving ways. She rubbed her shoulder where the man had nearly torn her arm out of its socket. The pain had been terrible, but even worse had been the fear that Gretchen would have to witness a murder and live with that memory the rest of her life.
If Carl hadn’t walked in when he did, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. She’d resisted signing the document until Ward had finally wrenched her arm behind her back and forced her to sit in the chair. She didn’t want to think what the man would have done next.
“I didn’t thank you yet for what you did last night,” she said.
“I don’t need a thank-you.”
“I wanted to do something . . .” She glanced away from the intensity in his eyes. “You must hurry now, before the water cools.”
He started toward the stall, shedding his coat.
“Make sure you wash your hair with the lye soap.”
“Do you think it will kill the herd of lice that’s made a home on my head?”
“It should if you lather your hair well, rinse, and then apply the salve I’ve left for you.”
He began unbuttoning his shirt. She glanced away and focused on unbridling Bets. But heat spread to her face nevertheless.
“So I put the salve in my hair?”
“Ja. Smear it over all of your hair. Coat it well.”
“Then I’ll be cured?”
“Leave it on for a little while, then wash it out.”
“I’d wear it for a week if I needed to. Anything to be rid of the vermin.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Just a little while. And then you’ll sleep in peace tonight.”
He was silent for a moment.
And when she chanced another glance in his direction, too late she realized he was in the process of tugging an undervest over his head, exposing the hard, smooth flesh of his back.
Mortified, she sucked in a breath and ducked her head behind Bets. Urgency prodded her to move faster, to take care of the horses, and to return to the house so that she could give Carl the privacy he would want.
When he gave a low, pleasurable groan that was accompanied by the sloshing of water, she forced herself to work quicker and not to peek into the dark stall.
As she finished the chores, she paused at the barn door and rested her forehead against the grainy wood. She didn’t understand the strange desire swelling in her chest. She’d never wanted to be near Hans. She’d always made a point of staying as far away from him as possible. What was it about Carl that made her want to linger?
“Carl?” she said softly.
“Yes?”
There was a hint of longing in his voice. Was he feeling the same pull? She shivered with the new sensation tightening her insides. But even so, she knew she must go. She couldn’t allow herself to think of him anymore.
“There are clean garments for you.”
“I see them. Were they your husband’s?”
They were the only extra pair Hans had owned, the ones he’d worn for their wedding. She’d almost burned them after his funeral. She’d wanted to get rid of every reminder of him. But thankfully she’d refrained from doing something so wasteful.
“I hope they’ll fit,” she said.
He was silent for a long moment, apparently focused on his bath.
She pushed the barn door open and stepped outside into the cool air. The darkness was broken only by the sliver of lantern light coming from inside the barn.
“Annalisa?” his voice trailed after her.
She paused and held her breath. “Ja?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” And this time the smile that formed on her lips went straight to her heart. He may have only uttered two simple words, but she could hear in them his pleasure at all she’d done for him.
She carried his gratefulness with her as she warmed his supper and prepared Gretchen for bed.
“And then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress climbed up to her.” Annalisa combed the silky strands of Gretchen’s hair.
“Is my hair like Rapunzel’s, Mama?”
“Yes, it’s getting very long.”
The girl sat in the middle of the bed in her nightdress with Snowdrop sprawled across her lap. The light of the fire spun her hair into a gold that turned even glossier with each stroke Annalisa made.
“More story, bitte,” Gretchen said, never seeming to tire of the same tales.
At times Annalisa wondered if she was doing the right thing by filling Gretchen’s head with fairy tales. She didn’t want the girl to believe a man and a woman could really live together in happiness and contentment. At least in her world and among the people she knew, affection was rarely mentioned or shown. If it happened in private, she couldn’t tell.
Annalisa swept the comb through the girl’s hair again and continued. “When the prince saw the enchantress climbing to Rapunzel by the braids of her hair, he decided he would try it too. So the next day, when it began to grow dark, he went to the tower and cried, ‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair to me.’”
“Ra
punzel, let down your hair to me.” Gretchen echoed the words with rapture, just as she did every time Annalisa told the tale.
In several months the girl would turn three, around the time the new baby was due to arrive. And every day Annalisa held on to the hope that at the end of October she would be able to pay off the loan, that with enough hard work, maybe someday, somehow she would be able to give her children more than she ever had.
She bent and kissed her daughter’s head.
“What about the prince, Mama?”
“The prince?”
The cabin door creaked open, and Annalisa glanced over her shoulder.
Carl stepped inside. His dark hair was slick from the salve and the bath. The edges curled up, in need of a trim. In Hans’s homespun garments he looked more like a farmer and less like a schoolteacher.
She started to rise from her spot on the edge of the bed, knowing it was past time for his supper and that he would be famished.
But he motioned for her to sit back down. “I’m sorry for interrupting your story. Please finish.”
She hesitated. “But your supper—”
“I insist.” He pulled the wobbly chair before the fireplace and lowered himself. His dark eyes fastened on her expectantly. “I can wait.”
Her stomach fluttered. He was usually gone by the time she tucked Gretchen into bed and told the nightly bedtime story. She wasn’t used to having an audience beyond a two-year-old.
“I promise I won’t say a word,” he said, as if sensing her shyness. He clamped his lips together, pretended to lock them, and then tucked his imaginary key into his pocket.
Gretchen giggled at his antics.
He grinned and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, looking too much like a schoolboy who was up to mischief.
Annalisa stifled a smile and turned her attention back to Gretchen. “I’ll tell you just a little more, then the rest must wait for another night.”
Gretchen nodded.
“Let’s see.” Annalisa could feel the warmth of his gaze on the back of her neck, but she tried to ignore it. “The prince climbed up Rapunzel’s braids and came in through the window. At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened at the sight of the man.”
Jody Hedlund Page 12