Jody Hedlund

by A Noble Groom

  Annalisa swayed.

  Carl strained to reach her side. And even though sweat broke out on his forehead from the exertion, and his legs felt like they would give way, he slipped an arm around her waist, praying his weak body would hold her up.

  She didn’t resist his touch. In fact, she leaned in to him, supporting him as much as he was her.

  “The others?” she finally asked, her voice quaking.

  “Uri is recovering. And your sister is much better too.”

  “And Vater?”

  “He’s as strong as an ox. The illness didn’t touch him.”

  From the droop of his shoulders, Carl could see that being the bearer of bad news was taking its toll on the kind old man.

  After the pastor rode away, Carl didn’t relinquish his hold on Annalisa, and she made no move away from him.

  “I’m sorry, Annalisa,” he whispered.

  She stared at the road, dust swirling in the air.

  “I know it’s not easy to lose a mother.” His own mother had died when he was but ten years old.

  “I didn’t expect her to go,” Annalisa managed to say. “She was always so healthy.”

  Carl tightened his arm around her waist.

  “She wasn’t an affectionate woman. And she had a very hard life. But she was a good mutter.”

  “I’m sure she was very good. Look how well you turned out.”

  Annalisa bit her trembling lip.

  He squeezed her and pressed his lips against her head. She leaned into his gentle kiss, which was nothing more than a comforting gesture, he told himself. The rigidness of the first time he’d held her was gone. He liked to think she was more comfortable with him after the past several weeks of talking together and living in such close proximity. But he suspected the shock of the news had weakened her usual reserve.

  If only he were stronger. Then he’d really hold her. But his legs wavered with the effort of standing.

  Her body turned rigid, and she gave a sudden cry. The agony of it went straight into his heart like the tip of a bayonet.

  Another cry slipped from her lips. She wrenched away from him and doubled over.

  He didn’t know what to do for her. How could he comfort her? He reached for her, attempting to pull her back into his arms.

  But before he could gather her, she collapsed to her knees. She gripped her lower abdomen and struggled to breathe. Her face was contorted with the same pain he’d noticed during those times when she’d had one of her false contractions.

  He lowered himself to a knee next to her. Was she sad or was she merely having another contraction. “Annalisa?”

  She took a deep, shaky breath. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She started to nod, but her breath was cut off and she cried out louder. He reached for her hand and clasped it. Her fingers tightened as the contraction wracked her body.

  When it passed, her grip loosened, but she was breathing heavily.

  A new kind of worry struck him. “Do you think we should get you into the cabin, just in case?”

  She shook her head and rubbed her belly as if by doing so she could keep the baby inside. “I can’t have the baby now . . . not without my mutter . . .”

  He glanced to the cabin and saw the white scrap of cloth flapping in the breeze. “No. I don’t think you can have the baby quite yet.” Not while the flag was still flying, not when the other women of the community would be afraid to come and help.

  “Maybe if I walk around . . .” She gasped and clutched her middle. The fear in her eyes sent a fresh surge of anxiety through him.

  She screamed and her fingers bit into his.

  “Oh, Lord, help us.” Whether they were ready or not, she was going to have the baby.

  “Mutter!” she cried out. “I can’t do this without my mutter!”

  He couldn’t just sit there. He had to find some way to ease her pain, to bring her comfort. “Pie? Perhaps a piece of pie might help?” He glanced around. “Or what about a strong cup of coffee? Or milk? That’s it—I’ll go milk the cow.” Although he had no idea how to milk the cow and knew he was babbling.

  Tears spilled onto her cheeks. “Won’t you get Mutter for me? Bitte?”

  He wiped his thumb across the trail of her tears. “If I could, I would get the whole world for you.”

  She gasped for breath through the contraction. When it subsided, he caressed her cheek. “Tell me who to fetch, and I’ll go. Anywhere.”

  She rested her hot face against his hand.

  He didn’t know how he’d possibly have the strength to even saddle Old Red, but he knew he had to get help for her before it was too late.

  “Don’t leave me,” she whispered.

  He fought against the sudden urge to run away.

  “Promise you’ll stay by my side.”

  “I promise.” He wiped away another of her tears.

  Lord, help him. Help them both . . .

  Chapter

  13

  Annalisa writhed in the bedstead. Sweat drenched her body and plastered her hair to her face in a tangled disarray.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” she said between gasps. After several hours, she could feel her strength waning.

  Carl sat on the edge of the bed. Deep lines creased his forehead. His eyes flashed with fear, which she knew he was trying to hide from her, but she’d seen it nonetheless.

  “Please, Annalisa, don’t give up.” He pressed a cup against her mouth and tipped it, forcing more water between her dry lips.

  She took a sip, then closed her eyes to wait until the next contraction wracked her body. When she’d given birth to Gretchen, the birthing pains had been more gradual, not so painful all at once.

  If only Mutter were there.

  Sorrow slipped around Annalisa’s chest, mingling with the pain of her birthing, taking away all the anticipation she’d had for the new baby.

  Mutter wouldn’t be coming to help her—would never be there ever again.

  Another spasm hit her, and she tried to hold back a scream. But with each agonizing cinch, a cry tore from her lips and filled the small cabin.

  “Gott, help me!” Her stomach gurgled with the need to vomit, as she already had several times.

  Carl reached for her hand. “I would trade places with you if I could.” Misery laced his voice.

  He’d done everything just as she’d instructed him from what she could remember Mutter having done during Gretchen’s birthing—giving her spiced ale, warming water for the baby, and finding clean linens. Without the midwife, who would have brought a birthing chair, Carl had helped her position herself and had cushioned her with fresh hay.

  He pressed a cool cloth to her forehead. “I must get help. I have to ride to town and get Frau Pastor. She’ll come. I know she will.”

  “You’re still too weak to ride.”

  “I have to try . . .” His voice cracked. “I cannot sit back and watch you suffer this way.” But even as he stood, he began to sway.

  “I’ll be fine . . . Really, the pain is normal . . .” She shook her head at him, huffing through another contraction.

  He sat back down on the edge of the bed. The unshaven scruff and unruliness of his hair, the thinness of his cheeks, and the dark circles under his eyes all testified to the fact that he still wasn’t well, that he should be the one in bed, not her.

  “I cannot bear to see you in so much pain,” he said, gently sliding a hand over her cheek.

  His attention was so sweet. She knew she should send him away, that no man should have to witness the intensity and pain a woman went through during childbirth. He was worrying altogether too much.

  But she didn’t want to be alone, couldn’t bear the thought of having to go through the experience without anyone by her side.

  When he bent his head toward hers and let his lips touch her forehead, she could almost believe that he truly cared about her.

  “Annalisa.” He pressed another k
iss to her hot skin, this one against her temple. “Please keep trying. I don’t want to lose you, and Gretchen doesn’t either.”

  At the mention of Gretchen’s name, fresh strength enveloped her. Women died in childbirth all the time. Wasn’t that why Idette had married Leonard? Because his wife and baby had both died during the birthing, leaving him all alone with the other children?

  Annalisa would not let that happen to her. She couldn’t leave her daughter to fend for herself.

  Another wave of agony gripped her, and a cry slipped from her lips even though she tried to hold it in.

  Carl began praying aloud with earnest pleas.

  She cried out silently with her own prayer, not sure if Gott would hear her, but hoping He was at the very least listening to Carl.

  “Take away her pain, Lord,” she heard Carl say. “Please take it away. Give it to me instead.”

  Even through her agony, she almost smiled. “The pain’s worth it,” she said, as the squeezing subsided in her abdomen.

  “I want to kill Hans for doing this to you.”

  This time her smile broke free. “Women have been giving birth like this since the beginning of time.”

  He shook his head, and disbelief filled his dark eyes. “I’ll never put my wife through such pain.”

  She gave a soft laugh. “We can’t have the beauty and miracle of new life without going through the hardship.”

  Her words made her pause. She couldn’t have anything that was truly worthwhile without fighting for it—her farm, her family, and perhaps even love.

  Maybe she hadn’t fought hard enough for love in the past. Maybe through all the pain and heartache she needed to keep fighting and believe in true love.

  The stream of sunlight from the window and soft whimpers awoke her. She pushed up from the bed, sticky with sweat and blood. How long had she been asleep?

  Her gaze darted around the cabin before landing on Carl, asleep in the chair next to the bed. A strand of hair hung haphazardly across one of his eyes. Weariness had carved grooves into his face. But there was something else there too, something she couldn’t read.

  She shifted her attention to the bundle in his arms. A tiny fist poked through Carl’s attempts at swaddling, followed by a newborn grunt. Bittersweet joy sifted through her again as it had earlier when she’d held her baby for the first time—joy over this new life mixed with sadness that her mutter was gone.

  Carl’s eyes flew open, and he tenderly adjusted the swaddling so that it covered the baby’s hand. Then very slowly, as if afraid of awakening the baby, he cradled the infant closer to his chest.

  Annalisa didn’t breathe for a long moment. She couldn’t. The tenderness of his gesture was so unusual and so infinitely beautiful it took her breath away. She’d never seen a grown man hold a newborn. Most left all the caring of infants to the women.

  Was it possible that Carl didn’t seem to mind holding her new child?

  She wanted to go on watching him and marveling at the sight of him with her baby, but his eyes lifted. And when he saw that she was awake and perched on her elbows, he sat up straighter and pushed the errant lock off his forehead.

  “How are you?” he asked shyly.

  She didn’t blame him for feeling awkward with her after all he’d seen and what he’d had to do to help her, the kinds of things only a woman should see and experience. At the time, without Mutter or a midwife, and with only him available to help her, she hadn’t thought about the embarrassment of the situation. The pain had blocked any thoughts of modesty. But now . . .

  She lowered her head, and her long tangled hair fell into her face.

  The baby gave a grunt. Longing swelled in her chest for the tiny infant she’d labored to bring into the world. “The baby?”

  As if sensing her desire, he held out the bundle. “My lady, your princess awaits you.”

  He tucked the blanket under the baby girl’s chin. Her face was wrinkled and red, but also sweet and feminine much like Gretchen’s.

  Annalisa hadn’t known whether to be disappointed or happy when she’d first realized she’d had another girl. Hans would have stormed out of the cabin, punishing her for not giving him a son. And she wouldn’t have blamed him. She knew the importance of having sons—especially for the strength they would lend to the survival of the farm.

  “She’s beautiful.” Carefully, Carl lowered the baby into her arms.

  “She’s not a son. . . .”

  “Who would want a son when he could have a houseful of pretty girls who look like their mother?”

  At his words of praise, a flush stole over Annalisa.

  He stroked the baby’s head and gazed down at her. His eyes sparkled with something akin to pride.

  “As much as I hated seeing you in pain,” he whispered, “I think I’m beginning to understand why so many people are willing to go through the hardship.”

  Thin roots of joy tunneled around the ever-softening soil of Annalisa’s heart. She hadn’t had much joy in her life, but she was certain this feeling was very close to it.

  She trailed her fingers across the baby’s cheeks, earning several squeaks that would soon turn to hungry wails. The baby was beautiful. But even more beautiful was Carl’s fascination. He’d shown more care for the child in the past couple of minutes than Hans had done for Gretchen in the first two years of her life.

  “Do you think you’ll ever want sons?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t anticipate having any children—sons or daughters.”

  “Of course you will. Someday you’ll forget all about the pain of the child birthing and you’ll be ready to do it again.”

  “Perhaps.” A cloud crossed his features, and with a sigh he gave the baby one last caress before standing. “Remember, I’m a wanted man. I’ve been convicted of murder. I’m not in a position to have the responsibility that comes with having children.”

  He’d never spoken of the events that had forced him to leave the Old Country, and she’d never asked. “But my uncle Matthias’s letter said the duke unfairly convicted you.”

  “Unfair or not, I’m running from the law. The duke might still be looking for me.”

  “He’ll never find you here.”

  “I wouldn’t say never.” Carl rubbed a hand across his eyes. His face had taken on a haggardness that hadn’t been there before. “Even so, I cannot consider bringing my troubles upon a wife and family.”

  “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.” She couldn’t keep a thread of desperation from edging her voice.

  He took a step back from the bed.

  She fought the urge to reach for his hand and prevent him from leaving her side. Was he thinking about his teaching job in Chicago? Was he ready to leave now?

  He shuffled away with slow, weak steps and stopped when he reached the door. With a heavy sigh he leaned against the doorframe and looked outside.

  From the brightness of the early morning light and the warmth of the air, she could tell they would have another hot, dry day without the rain they needed.

  “I don’t have anything to offer a family,” he went on. “My future’s uncertain. I don’t know where I’ll end up, what I’ll be doing, or even if I’ll have the means to support myself, much less a wife and children.”

  She willed him to turn around and look at her, and see that none of that mattered to her. She didn’t care that he was running from the law, that he was wanted for murder, and that he didn’t own anything but the clothes on his back.

  The baby squirmed, then let out a wail.

  With as much discretion as she could manage, she shifted her blouse to give the infant access to her milk. After a few attempts, the baby latched on and began to suck with greedy gulps.

  When the newborn’s eyes opened and squinted up at her, Annalisa stroked her fuzzy head. Deep motherly love sprang up, fresh and clear and forceful. “Ach, my littlest liebchen,” she whispered, slipping her finger into the baby’s hand and relishing the tiny grip.<
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  But at the same time the passion for her newborn rose, she couldn’t shake the sorrow that rose with it. This little girl would never get to meet her grandmother. And she would likely never get to know the sweet man who had helped bring her into the world.

  The sunlight grazed Carl’s head, turning his hair the color of freshly baked rye bread. He was unlike any man she’d ever known, and she longed to slip behind him, wrap her arms around his waist, and lay her cheek against his solid back. She wanted to plead with him to stay and be the papa of her new baby.

  He would be a good papa. In fact, she couldn’t imagine a better papa.

  After the weeks of their being together, would Vater demand that Carl marry her? Maybe the neighbors had spread rumors about all the time they’d been here together, alone. Ja, Carl had been deathly sick. She hadn’t been able to move him. And Frau Pastor had been unable to find anyone else willing to come and help, as everyone else had been too busy taking care of their own sick.

  Still, wouldn’t everyone expect them to get married now? And wouldn’t a man as honorable as Carl do the right thing if he’d compromised her reputation?

  Perhaps they could find a way to make a marriage partnership work. If they tried hard enough, couldn’t they figure out how to overcome all the barriers that loomed between them?

  As if sensing her silent pleas, he pivoted until he faced her. With one shoulder against the doorframe he folded his arms across his chest. His eyes were tender upon the baby. “What will you name her?” he asked softly.

  She lifted the baby to her shoulder and thumped her back. “I think I’ll call her Sophie. After my mutter.”

  “I like that. I think your mother would be pleased too.”

  Her throat constricted with the realization that Mutter wouldn’t get to see her new grandchild and that Sophie would have to grow up without an oma.

  “I’m sure your new husband will take one look at both Sophie and Gretchen and be completely won over.”

  Her new husband? She shook her head.

  But Carl spoke quickly—before she could. “Besides, you’ll eventually give Dirk many sons.”