Jody Hedlund

by A Noble Groom

  “I’m Peter.” Annalisa’s father stepped from the shadows and crossed his arms at his chest. “Who are you?”

  Carl shook his head. He didn’t want to hear who this man was. He wanted to shove him outside and send him away before he could speak.

  But Carl couldn’t move and couldn’t get his voice to work.

  The stranger stifled a cough, then let his bag slip from his shoulder to the floor, as if he was finally home.

  “I’m Dirk. Your cousin.”

  Chapter

  17

  Annalisa stared at the stranger. Dread snaked around her.

  Dirk? Here? Now?

  He couldn’t be. He was supposed to be dead.

  But Vater was embracing him like a long-lost son. And the other men were swarming around him, bombarding him with questions of family back home.

  Everyone but Carl.

  He stood on the fringe, his face pale and his shoulders rigid.

  She wanted him to look at her and ask his question one more time. She wouldn’t hesitate this time. Everything within her cried out Ja, ja, ja. She would marry him. In fact, she’d do it at that very moment.

  But she couldn’t get her feet to move toward him, and he stared at Dirk as if the man were the only other person in the barn.

  “Didn’t you get Matthias’s recent letter telling of my delay?” Dirk asked Vater.

  “We haven’t heard from anyone,” he said. “We all assumed you were buried at the bottom of the sea.”

  “I was almost buried back in Essen before I could set sail.” Dirk coughed again with a wheeze and rattle that rivaled a wagon on one of their bumpy roads.

  “Sounds like you might need a burying yet,” one of the other farmers said.

  “Oh, this is nothing compared to what it was before. I’m fit now. Even the immigration doctor at the harbor in New York told me I was healthy.”

  Annalisa wanted someone to pinch her and wake her up. Likely she was only having a bad dream. She’d awaken and find this man gone. Carl would smile at her and ask her again if she would marry him. And of course she’d say yes.

  Vater slapped Dirk’s back. “Well, it’s a good thing you came tonight. I was about to give my Annalisa in marriage to another man.”

  The men shifted to look at Carl. Dirk followed their lead, his brow rising.

  Carl didn’t move.

  “If you’d waited to come until tomorrow,” Vater continued, “you would have found yourself without a wife and farm.”

  Maybe he still would find himself without a wife and farm. Did she dare walk over to Carl and show Vater and everyone else that she loved Carl and wanted to marry him? She quaked at the thought of doing something so bold. Perhaps if she caught Carl’s attention, he would see her willingness to marry him in her eyes. And if he knew she would marry him, maybe he would speak up and claim her for his own.

  “We’ve got the pastor here tonight.” Vater motioned at Herr Pastor. “We might as well do the marrying now, while he’s here.”

  She took another step back. Nein. She couldn’t marry Dirk. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. But especially not tonight.

  Dirk glanced around the crowd of women as if searching her out. If they’d ever met in the Old Country, she didn’t remember him anymore. They both would have been much younger then.

  She slouched and tried to make herself invisible.

  But Vater pointed her out. “This is my daughter, Annalisa. And even though she has two daughters of her own, she’s still young and strong and will eventually give you sons.”

  She didn’t look at Dirk, yet she could sense his appraisal. Instead she turned to Carl. They both needed to say something before it was too late.

  Her mouth was dry. If she spoke, they would likely only scoff her. But if Carl said something, they would listen to him.

  Silently she pleaded with him. The muscles in Carl’s jaw twitched. If only he would declare his intention to marry her. If only he would tell Vater it was too late for Dirk to have her. If only he would come and stand by her side and declare his love for her.

  Did he love her? He’d just asked her to marry him. But he’d never mentioned love . . .

  Dirk’s gaze bounced between her and Carl. Understanding dawned in his eyes, and his thin face hardened. “I see I’m going to be competing for Annalisa’s affection.”

  Herr Pastor stepped forward. “Dear friends,” he began in his most pastoral voice, “this is all so sudden and unexpected. I urge us not to be hasty tonight in making any decisions regarding Annalisa’s future.”

  “There’s only one thing to be done, Herr Pastor,” Vater said. “Even though I gave my consent for Carl to marry Annalisa, I did so only because I believed Dirk to be dead. But now that he’s here and very much alive, I must honor the commitment I made to him. Annalisa and the farm must go to Dirk.”

  Annalisa started to shake her head in protest. What about her choice? Shouldn’t she have a say in the matter of her future husband?

  Didn’t Carl think so too? After all he’d said about not marrying a stranger or giving up on the chance for love and happiness in marriage?

  She looked to him to say something, anything. His eyes locked with hers for a long moment. Anguish pooled in their dark depths, along with his desire to be with her.

  For a fraction of a second, hope fluttered inside her chest.

  But then he shook his head, his eyes filled with apology, and he looked away.

  The flutter vanished into utter stillness. Was he unwilling to fight to marry her?

  “Carl isn’t objecting.” Vater voiced her worst fear. “He’d considered marrying her to help her. But now that Dirk is here, Carl has no need to stay. He can move on as he’d planned.”

  Nausea pooled in her stomach. So he’d asked her to marry him out of obligation? And he didn’t care enough to marry her now that Dirk was here?

  She’d wanted so badly to believe Carl had proposed marriage because he loved her. But the cold truth slapped her again—he’d never once made a declaration of his love.

  “Even so,” Herr Pastor said, his gentle eyes coming to rest on her, “there’s no reason to rush the matter.”

  Frau Pastor sidled next to her and rubbed Annalisa’s arm. She gave her husband a nod as if encouraging him to go on.

  “In fact,” he continued, “I suggest we wait two weeks. Let’s give everyone a chance to get to know one another first.”

  “Two weeks is too long,” Vater boomed. But when he glanced at Annalisa, and saw the desperation she knew was ingrained in every line of her face, he stopped speaking. His brow lifted, and the confident set of his shoulders wavered.

  “Then one week,” Herr Pastor said. “If everyone is in agreement, I’ll perform the ceremony in one week, after next week’s Sunday morning service.”

  Vater nodded, then looked at Dirk. “What do you say, cousin? Will you wait one week?”

  Dirk hesitated, then looked at Carl.

  Without saying a word, Carl tugged down the brim of his hat, strode through the crowd, and stalked out of the barn, disappearing into the darkness of night.

  The weight in Annalisa’s stomach pressed heavier.

  “We can wait a week,” Dirk said, staring after Carl. “We would be wiser to have the good-byes behind us before we attempt to start a new life.”

  Annalisa wanted to cry out in protest.

  But she didn’t move, not even when Frau Pastor patted her arm again and whispered, “There, there, dearie. It’ll all work out just fine. You’ll see.”

  Carl rammed the edge of the shovel into the hill of potatoes. Sweat ran in rivulets down his face and back. But he didn’t care. He took satisfaction in the fact that Dirk—who was digging potatoes in the row next to him—had fallen behind. Way behind. And he took pleasure in the fact that Annalisa had chosen to follow him and gather the potatoes from the soil he’d loosened while requiring Gretchen to follow after Dirk.

  He glanced over his shoulder toward Dirk. The ma
n had stopped again. His cough had worsened with each passing hour, and now he could hardly hold his head up under the rigors of working in the unceasing heat.

  Carl held back a grin, thinking back to the days when he’d first arrived. He’d been just as weak and incompetent—perhaps even more so. He shoved the blade into the hard soil, and the muscles in his arms rippled. He wasn’t a weakling any longer. The summer of hard manual labor had turned him into a strong man, and in more ways than one.

  With a swipe of his sleeve he brushed the sweat out of his eyes and peered toward the cabin, where Annalisa and Gretchen had gone to empty their baskets of potatoes.

  They were his. Not Dirk’s.

  The man had no right arriving after all this time and expecting that Annalisa would still marry him. Anger punched Carl’s gut again—as it had every time he thought of the previous evening in the barn. And yet the anger was just as quickly followed by helplessness. Who was he to stand up and demand that Annalisa marry him?

  He’d been a fool to think he could take her as his wife—not when he was living a lie. He couldn’t just forget about his true identity or that she hated his father. He’d already deceived her enough. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life letting her believe he was someone he wasn’t.

  A gust of hot wind whipped at his face. The wind had been increasing in intensity over the morning, but even so, it provided little relief from the heat.

  He drew in a deep breath and caught the hint of smoke.

  At the barn raising, the men had talked about the fires to the west. Everyone had agreed the conditions were too dangerous for the usual burning of slashings, that anyone wishing to clear more land needed to wait until the drought was over.

  Carl could only shake his head at the foolishness of whoever was ignoring the warnings.

  Dirk coughed again and this time couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

  Carl wedged the blade of his shovel into the dirt and trudged over the uneven ground toward the man.

  Although he didn’t particularly like Dirk, he couldn’t stand back and watch him kill himself. Besides, it wasn’t Dirk’s fault they both wanted Annalisa. From what he’d seen of Dirk so far, he seemed to be a decent man.

  He halted in front of Dirk and waited as the man hunched over and struggled through his coughing fit. When he finally lifted his head, his lips were blue and his face drawn.

  “I’m ready for a break,” Carl said. “What do you say? Shall we go rest in the shade for a spell?” He nodded toward the edge of the field to one of the old oaks whose leaves were already brown.

  Dirk straightened and wiped his brow. “Maybe I should rest for a few minutes.”

  They stumbled through the clods of soil that were as solid as stones. When they reached the shade, they tossed their sweat-ringed hats into the long, yellowed grass and flopped onto their backs.

  For a short while neither of them said anything, letting the wind do all the talking. It whistled in the grass and rustled among the dry leaves and branches. It had already rattled loose all the acorns, and Gretchen had gathered whatever the squirrels had left behind.

  “I have a letter for you from Matthias.” Dirk pushed up to his elbows and gave him a shrewd, narrowed gaze that sent Carl’s stomach into a nervous tumble.

  Slowly he sat up. Did Dirk know his true identity?

  “He included money for your return voyage.”

  “Why would he do that?” Carl asked.

  “Your name has been cleared.”

  Carl searched Dirk’s face, trying to make sense of what the man was saying. How much did Dirk know about who he was and what had happened?

  “Matthias didn’t tell me much.” Dirk reached into his pocket and tugged out a dirty, tattered letter that was folded into a small wad. “But last night when I first saw you, I thought you looked familiar.”

  Carl’s mouth went dry.

  “I thought about it all night and finally figured it out this morning when I saw you again.”

  “Figured out what?”

  “Who you really are.” The glint in Dirk’s eyes was sharp, and he made no effort to give Carl Matthias’s letter.

  Carl tried to swallow but couldn’t.

  “It all makes sense now.” Dirk struggled to sit up. “The news that the duke’s assassin had been captured. The acquittal of Baron von Reichart’s missing son. And then Matthais’s letter and the money for the return voyage.”

  “They found the real assassin?” Hope sprang to life in Carl, and he sat forward with a new excitement. “How? What happened?”

  Dirk’s mouth curved into a satisfied smile. “Then you are Gottfried Charles von Reichart?”

  Carl met Dirk’s gaze head on. How could he possibly hide his identity any longer? “Yes, I am he.”

  Dirk’s smile edged higher. Yet there was something about the look in his eyes that chased away the thrill of Carl’s acquittal.

  “I also know why Matthias asked me to give you the letter privately.”

  Carl turned and looked at Annalisa, who had started walking back to them, her empty basket in one hand, a jug of water in the other, and Sophie in the sling. Gretchen and Snowdrop trailed behind her.

  “They don’t know who you are, do they?”

  Carl didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He was too ashamed of his deception to speak the words aloud.

  “And as far as I’m concerned, they won’t ever need to know.” Dirk’s gaze swung to Annalisa, and he stared at her as if she were already his.

  But she wasn’t his. Not yet.

  “I know how much Peter hates your father. So there’s no need to hurt them.” Dirk pinned him with a hard look. “As long as you leave town first thing Monday morning.”

  Annalisa drew nearer.

  Carl couldn’t imagine the pain she would feel to know he’d lied to her over the past months about who he really was.

  Dirk held out the wadded letter.

  Carl reached for it.

  Then Dirk pulled it back. “Monday morning.”

  Of course, Carl had known since the moment Dirk walked into the barn and brought the dancing to a halt that he needed to leave. He had no claim on Annalisa, not when he was really her enemy.

  On the other hand, could he really walk away, especially on Monday morning knowing Annalisa would end up marrying Dirk, that even if she didn’t want to, she’d do it because she wanted to try to save her farm, which she would likely lose anyway?

  Carl ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. “You do know that with the drought and the poor harvest, she probably won’t be able to pay off the loan on the farm.”

  Dirk shrugged. “Peter told me as much.”

  “Then why marry Annalisa?”

  “I’ll sell whatever of value is left, and we’ll move to the West. During the crossing, everyone on the ship talked about the land that’s available in the West practically for free.”

  “What if Annalisa doesn’t want to move?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll do my best to take care of her wherever we go.”

  Carl wanted to continue arguing with Dirk, but Annalisa and Gretchen were almost upon them.

  “I don’t want to know what’s gone on between the two of you this summer,” Dirk said, lowering his voice. “I’m willing to overlook anything she did with you. But I want you to leave now and let me have the chance to gain her affection.”

  “And what if she wants me?”

  “Do you really think your father would ever approve of a woman like Annalisa? She’s not your kind.”

  Maybe at one time, Carl would have thought so too. But now . . . were they really that different? He wasn’t important or wealthy or powerful anymore. He was just a simple man. And she was just a simple woman.

  And besides, it didn’t matter what his father thought. He wasn’t living his life for his father. And he certainly didn’t need his father’s money anymore. He’d proven to himself that he could get along just fine without it.

  Dirk held out t
he wadded letter again. “If you care about her, then give her the chance to forget about you. Leave Monday.”

  Was Dirk right? Did he need to move on and give Annalisa the chance to forget about him, to start a new life? If he stayed, he’d only be torturing them both with a longing for each other that couldn’t be fulfilled.

  Hesitantly Carl touched Matthias’s letter.

  Dirk didn’t release his grip. “If you’re not gone by Monday, I’ll make sure everyone knows the truth about who you are.”

  With that, Dirk let go and pushed himself up. He struggled to his feet and greeted Annalisa. He took the basket from her, easing her burden.

  Carl stuffed the letter into his pocket, next to the note he’d received from Ward. If Dirk didn’t tell everyone who he was, Ward would eventually, especially when Carl refused to cooperate with him.

  Maybe it was best to leave on Monday before either of the men said anything.

  Gretchen bounded over to him, ignoring Dirk. With a smile she climbed onto his lap and wrapped her arms around him.

  He pressed a kiss to her head, taking a deep breath of her silky hair. Could he really leave on Monday—in only two days?

  “I’ll rest with you.” The little girl snuggled her head against his chest.

  “Ah, that’s good. I need more rest. I’m an old man, and this work is hard on my old bones.” He tried to keep his voice light even though his insides felt like they were ripping in two. “Perhaps I can tell you another story from the Brothers Grimm?”

  She nodded and her smile widened. “The story ‘Little Red Cap’?”

  “No.” Dirk leveled a stern look at the child. “No stories. It’s time for work again.”

  Gretchen’s smile faded, and her eyes sought Carl’s, as if to learn his decision before obeying Dirk.

  Carl pushed back the loose strands of her hair that had blown into her eyes. How could he say good-bye to this sweet girl who was like a daughter to him? Yet if he stayed, he would only make it harder for her to adjust to her new papa.