Farmer's Daughter Romance Collection : Five Historical Romances Homegrown in the American Heartland (9781630586164)

by Peterson, Tracie; Davis, Mary; Hake, Kelly Eileen; Stengl, Jill; Warren, Susan May

  But it was true. Somehow, she’d denied it, for how long she couldn’t guess. Her feelings for Reggie were wrapped in a package of expectations, respect, and gratefulness. But Reggie couldn’t make her heart soar. Only Heinrick could do that. Only Heinrick knew the real, unmasked Lilly, the afraid Lilly, the impulsive and even brave Lilly. He unearthed her innermost thoughts and embraced them with a touch of unconditional and breathtaking love. Lilly choked, feeling as if her father had tightened a noose around her neck. She had no choices. Trusting God, consulting Him, surrendering to His plans, whatever they were, were not a part of the equation. She had others to obey—her parents, Reggie.

  Despair snuffed out the ember of hope that had burst into flame only earlier that evening.

  Lilly hung her head. “Yes, Father.”

  Darkness hovered like a fog over the wheat field. Lilly sat in the window seat, her head in her folded arms, her eyes swollen. Her father had dismissed her to her room an hour prior, but sleep was forgotten in the mourning of her heart. She slouched in the windowsill and felt a numbing cold creep over her.

  Lilly rose and tiptoed toward her closet. Maybe her father would allow her a brief trip to the river to watch the sunrise. She needed the fingers of light to weave into her soul; and the maple grove, despite the memories it stored of Heinrick, was also the place God had spoken to her and reminded her to seek Him. He promised she would find Him when she looked for Him. Even when she’d been bereft over the loss of Reggie, God had carried her. He could carry her now.

  She changed into a brown wool dress and long stockings and grabbed her knit gray shawl as she padded from her room.

  Lilly approached the landing and heard her parents’ muffled voices from the family room below. They had not gone to bed, either. Guilt burned in her chest, but she couldn’t keep her curiosity from planting herself on the top step. Their conversation became distinct as she held her breath and ignored her pounding heart.

  “My father felt the same way,” her mother was saying. “Don’t you remember the night you asked him for my hand? He nearly broke his arm throwing you out of the house.”

  Lilly’s heart lightened to hear her father’s soft chuckle. Then his voice turned solemn. “This is different, Ruth. I wasn’t a foreigner. The world wasn’t at war.”

  “No, you were from a different church. And you were poor. To my parents, that was worse.”

  Lilly wrapped her arms around her knees and concentrated to catch every word.

  “And what about her new faith, Donald? You can’t say Reggie brought her that.”

  “Reggie is a good man. He loves God and will guide her spiritually.”

  Her mother’s harrumph ricocheted up the stairs. “If Reggie’s belief in God is anything like Pastor Larsen’s, I think it is Lilly who will teach him.”

  “Now Ruth, Pastor Larsen is a wise man.”

  “Wise and firm. But is he kind? And what about Reggie? Will he treat Lilly with gentleness and love?”

  “Of course he will. And he has a sound future in front of him. What kind of life can some German immigrant give her? Is that what we want for Lilly?”

  “I don’t think it’s up to us, Donald. Lilly trusts us, but we need to let her make her own decisions.”

  “I’m her father. I have to look out for her.”

  Lilly sensed the texture of her mother’s voice soften. She imagined her touching her husband softly on the arm, as was her habit. “Just like my father looked out for me and gave you a chance to prove your love. He knew I loved you, and he knew I thought God wanted me to marry you. So he waited in giving my hand until he was sure of the one God had chosen. God’s given me a good life with you, dear. It may not have been an easy life, but it’s been a joyful one.”

  Tears edged Lilly’s eyes. She shouldn’t be listening to their intimate conversation. She gathered herself to creep back to her room. But her father’s last words burned in her ears.

  “Ruth, you’re a persuasive woman. If this fella can prove to me he loves her more than Reggie, I’ll give him a chance.”

  Lilly stumbled to her room, stifling a cry. Her father would have let Heinrick prove himself! But it was too late. Heinrick had told her good-bye, and right now, he was probably lying in a pool of his own blood. Lilly threw herself on the bed next to Bonnie, curled into a ball, and wept.

  Chapter 23

  Get your paws off Christian,” Olive snarled and turned her dark eyes on Lilly. Lilly slowly put the toddler back on the floor, where he’d been playing with a wooden spoon, and backed away from him. She avoided Olive’s glare, but shuddered as she heard Olive slam a plate down at her place on the table. Olive acted as if Lilly’s betrayal had singularly led to Chuck’s death. It was more than a cold, aloof snubbing. Olive sizzled with hatred and was directing the blaze at Lilly.

  Lilly felt like the apostle Paul, under Roman house arrest. She even envied the birds, the lark and crow, who scolded her, then lifted in flight over the prairie. What did their eyes see when they flew over the Torgesen T? Did they see Heinrick, well and hustling cattle? Or was he lying in a bunkhouse, bleeding, broken, near death? The horror of it assaulted her at odd times; while she hung laundry, when she dipped out water from the rain barrel, once when she milked the cows. And, despite her attempts to push the memory aside, she couldn’t seem to escape the look of joy in his eyes when she told him she loved him.

  Lilly mourned Heinrick in private, pouring out her tears late at night under cover of her quilt and praying for release from the grip of heartache. His magnetic blue eyes and tireless smile pressed against her, and there were times she felt crushed and thought she would break from the pain. Other times, the load seemed to lighten, as if some hand had lifted it from her heart. Lilly fought to put him out of her mind. From dawn to dusk, she buried herself in her chores, read her Bible, and hoped for dreamless, exhausted sleep. She relentlessly tried to believe her father’s words—she’d simply been lonely and her feelings for Heinrick were built upon boredom. But, as the days turned over into weeks and October blew the fire-lit leaves of ash and maples into the yard, she realized a part of Heinrick would always be hers. He’d left her his legacy, the imprint of the force that defined his life—a personal relationship with the Lord of the universe. The key to joy incarnate was Heinrick’s gift to her. For that freedom, she would always be grateful she’d met him.

  Lilly altered her wedding dress, finishing it the first week of November. She embroidered, white upon the white satin, a floral pattern designed from her own drying lilies of the valley, with oversized bells that cascaded down the skirt from the sculptured empire waistline. She removed the sheer lace overskirt and added the lace instead to the elbow-length sleeves. The wide, wispy cuffs were contrary to popular styles, but they were exactly what she wanted. She hung the dress over the door of her wardrobe.

  “Lilly, it’s breathtaking.” Her mother folded her arms and leaned against the door frame.

  Grateful, Lilly smiled.

  Her mother drew Lilly into her arms. “You’ll be a beautiful bride.”

  Lilly nodded into her mother’s shoulder.

  Her mother pulled away and held her at arm’s length. “I know you had hoped for something different….”

  She forced a smile. “No, Mother. I’m ready to marry Reggie.”

  Mother Clark’s brows arched.

  “I know it’s the right thing to do.”

  Her mother flattened her smile and nodded, as if understanding. She laid a hand on Lilly’s shoulder and squeezed gently, and Lilly wished she’d spoken the truth.

  Lilly tucked her hair into a knit bonnet, pulled on a wool duster, and hustled out the door. Her family, minus Olive and Christian, were already headed into town.

  Minutes ago, a rider on horseback had galloped through their yard, leaving in his wake the triumphant announcement—the Germans had surrendered to the Allied Forces somewhere in the middle of the French wilds. The war was over. Lilly watched the messenger tear north, tow
ard the Torgesen T, and wondered how the news would greet Heinrick. He was no longer the enemy. She shoved the thought aside and caught up to her family. It didn’t matter, anyway. Reggie would surely be home soon.

  In town, forgiveness drifted on the crisp winter air. Mrs. Larsen, who had heretofore regarded Lilly with frigid eyes and an acid tongue, wrapped her in a two-armed hug and squeezed. “Now we can all get back to our lives,” she whispered.

  Main Street was packed, and Miller’s did a thriving coffee and tea business while selling copies of the Armistice telegram that had sped across the country. Bonnie skipped down the steps of the pharmacy, waving the surrender details. Huddling next to her mother and listening as her father read the account, Lilly spied Marjorie standing in a clump of ecstatic women. Lilly tightened her jaw and ignored the stab in her heart.

  The train whistle blew. Lilly took a deep breath and wondered if today, finally, she would receive word from Reggie. She had no address for him, had no idea where to send her own half-written scripts. But she didn’t know what to say, either. They would have to sort it out when he came home, if he came home.

  The train pulled into the station and coughed. The echo of it carried across town. Lilly made a mental note to check her box later.

  She leaned forward and listened to her father finish the newspaper story. Her mother patted her hand. “Praise God, it’s over.”

  Lilly could only nod. Finally, Mobridge could regroup, collectively mourn its losses, and rebuild. The community could patch the wounds, lay to rest the fears and the horror, and stumble forward into the future. Lilly knew they would find a way to hold on to the land, their legacies, and their love. They would survive.

  A gasp washed like a wave through the clusters of gossiping townspeople. Lilly bristled, and an odd sensation rippled up her spine. She looked up and went weak.

  “Hello, Lilly.” Reggie stood in the middle of the street, his khaki uniform wrinkled under an open overcoat, his dress cap tilted crazily over his hand, and a sprig of short black hair sticking out like a flagpole over his eyes. He smiled a smooth milky grin. He leaned forward, as if she hadn’t heard him, and repeated himself. “Lilly?”

  Lilly cried out and rushed toward his open arms.

  Mrs. Larsen beat her to him. She clung to her son and wept. Reggie buried his head in his mother’s neck and held her.

  Lilly stood paralyzed. She waited, watching the wind toy with his hat, then knock it aloft. It fingered his short hair, lifted the collar of his coat, and carried to her the smell of wool and perspiration, confidence and strength. The smell of Reggie. She breathed in deeply.

  Reggie finally extracted himself from his sobbing mother and stepped toward Lilly. She met his eyes and saw buried in them a thousand battles, not all with guns and bombs. Reggie reached out and slipped his hand around her neck. He paused, then in a desperate moment, drew her against him, burying his face in her hair. “Lilly,” he groaned. “I feared I would never see you again.”

  She encircled his waist with her arms and pulled him close. They embraced while a hundred eyes watched them, measuring, considering. Lilly knew this was probably their last untarnished moment. Once his mother had him alone, she could reveal to him the indiscretions of his disobedient fiancée. If not her, then Marjorie, Ernestine, or even Olive. Somehow, the tale would emerge, and the unwavering trust between them that had been theirs before the war and now, in this magical moment, would be forever scarred. She clutched him tighter.

  “You missed me,” he said, his voice husky.

  Lilly pulled back and stared into his wounded brown eyes. She felt the pricking of tears and nodded. A grin tugged at his mouth. “And I missed you.”

  Then he lowered his face and kissed her. It felt familiar and warm.

  Reggie finally released her, pinned on her one last meaningful look, and then stepped into the multitude. Lilly let free a shuddering, cleansing breath. Hope had returned to the prairie in vivid intensity.

  Mrs. Larsen pulled at Lilly’s arm, her face close. “We’ll be up tomorrow to discuss wedding plans.”

  Lilly nodded and saw Reggie disappear into the crowd.

  That night, as she and Bonnie were undressing for bed, Bonnie stole up behind her and placed a small parchment envelope on her vanity. Lilly stared at it and blanched. “Where did you get it?”

  Bonnie looked at her, curiosity in her youthful eyes. “I picked it up at the post office today.”

  Lilly fingered the envelope and examined the bold, block letters. Her skin prickled.

  “Is it from him?”

  Lilly shot her sister a glance.

  Bonnie shrugged and smiled mysteriously. “Sometimes you talk in your sleep.”

  Lilly swallowed hard.

  Bonnie giggled. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

  What secret? Lilly turned over the envelope in her hands and cautiously worked it open.

  Short and dated the first week of October, the note made her tremble.

  Dear Lilly,

  I heard about your home, and I am sorry for the trouble I caused you. The Torgesens have released me from my contract, and I am leaving Mobridge. Thank you for your friendship; you are written upon my heart. The words from Ruth 2:12 speak my hope for you. May the good Lord repay you for your kindness. May He protect you and reward you. Go with God, Lilly.

  Yours,

  Heinrick

  Lilly moaned and clutched the letter to her chest. He was gone, and somehow, with him, went the last shred of a love that had seemed so intoxicating, so breathtaking, so encompassing. And so right.

  Lilly fell to her knees, buried her head into the crazy quilt, and sobbed. Bonnie knelt beside her and rubbed her back.

  Why, on the day of Reggie’s return, when peace should finally be hers, did she feel as though she were back in battle?

  Chapter 24

  I think we’ll have a Thanksgiving wedding.” Reggie tucked his hands in the pocket of his woolen gray duster and peered into Lilly’s eyes. Sheltered in the grove of maples, the howl of the unrelenting wind didn’t seem as loud and menacing. Lilly folded her mittened hands together and nodded, an acquiescing smile on her face. Two weeks seemed a mere blink away, but she’d been waiting for two years. The sooner it happened, the better.

  Reggie studied her. “You’ve changed, Lilly. You seem, oh, I don’t know, more serious. I expected my bubbly, carefree Lilly.” His eyes clouded. “You seem pensive.”

  Lilly bit her lip.

  Reggie turned away and propped up his collar. “You aren’t even happy to see me.”

  Lilly’s heart twisted. She put a hand on his arm. “Of course I am.”

  He turned and considered her a long moment. It seemed to Lilly he seemed shorter, not quite as towering as he’d been. And his dark eyes were sharper, older. His face was lean, his angled jaw cleanly shaven. She’d observed him all week, especially today at morning service, and noted he carried an unfamiliar air of wariness that could only be reaped by war. And once, when she’d slid her hand onto his arm while he gazed across the frost-covered fields, he’d nearly jumped out of his skin. His eyes brimmed with anger, and it took him a full painful five seconds to tuck some horrific moment into the folds of memory. But the residue of hatred frightened her.

  Reggie pulled away from her touch and stalked out to the bluff. The breeze blew through his short hair. He stared across the river. “In France, this view was all I could think of. Home. Being with you. It seemed the only reason worth fighting. Whenever the commander yelled for us to attack and the blood froze in my veins, the thought of you waiting for me gave me the courage to climb over the barricades. One step at time, one shot at a time, I figured I was headed home.”

  Tears welled in Lilly’s eyes. She edged toward him. “Why didn’t you write? It’s been three months since your telegram.” Her voice cracked. “What happened?”

  Reggie’s voice hardened. “I couldn’t write because I couldn’t see. Some nurse sent the telegram fo
r me.” Rawness, as though the incident had happened yesterday, entered his tone. “I was hit by mustard gas the day Harley and Chuck were killed.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. “Luckily, I shoved on my mask right after it hit, so I didn’t get the worst of it. Instead, I saw my best buddies killed.” Grief twisted his face. Lilly tugged on his arm and led him to a bleached cottonwood. He sat and hung his head in his hands.

  Lilly tucked herself beside him.

  “It was horrible. I couldn’t breathe. After the fighting stopped, we crawled out of our bunkers and took off our masks. Then the torture began. My eyes felt as if they had been seared with a branding torch. They glued together, and my throat closed. It swelled up, and I couldn’t swallow. I was choking.”

  Tears chilled Lilly’s cheeks.

  Reggie’s voice dropped. “They had to strap me down.”

  Lilly gazed across the ice-edged river and conjured up a ghastly image of Reggie tied to a hospital bed. She felt ill and longed to close her ears to his words.

  “All I could think of the entire time was you, Lilly. You and our future.”

  Lilly wrapped her arms around herself, pushing against physical pain.

  Reggie turned to her. “I don’t want to wait until Thanksgiving. I would marry you tomorrow if I could. I just want to get back to some kind of normalcy, the life I always dreamed of.” He wrapped her upper arms in an iron grip and turned her to face him. “Please, say you will marry me, Lilly.”

  His brown eyes probed hers, and Lilly saw in them desperation and longing so intense, she knew she couldn’t deny him. She couldn’t cause him more pain. “Of course I will, Reggie.”

  He pulled her to himself and kissed her, powerfully, winding his arm around her neck and holding her tight.

  Lilly fled into her wedding plans. Somehow, tucked inside Reggie’s grins and Mrs. Larsen’s babbling, Lilly felt a measure of calm, as if she’d negotiated a cease-fire in her heart. She marched forward, toward the inevitable conclusion, and told herself this was right.