MB02 - A Noble Groom (25 page)

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.

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.”

A rebuttal formed on her lips. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t want to give her cousin any sons. That she didn’t want to be with him. That after meeting Carl, she didn’t want to ever be with anyone else.

Before he’d walked into her life, she’d accepted her fate, had determined to make the best of her children’s lives no matter who her husband was.

But now . . .

After experiencing respect and decency and kindness from a man, how could she go back? How could she be happy with anything less?

The darkness of Carl’s eyes had turned murky, and once again he spun away from her, but not before she saw the frustration that creased his forehead.

“I think I’ll go tend to the animals,” he said.

Before she could stop him, he disappeared outside. She knew he wasn’t strong enough yet to resume chores, but he’d obviously decided he needed to get away from her.

She brought Sophie’s tiny hand to her lips and kissed the thin fingernails. “I’ll need to be careful, liebchen,” she whispered, “or I’ll scare him away for good.”

And that was the last thing she wanted to do.

He was making plans to move to Chicago and teach after Dirk arrived, but could she do anything to make him reconsider? The thought had sprouted some time ago and was now developing roots.

She cradled Sophie against her chest.

Already sated, the baby’s eyes had closed. “Maybe if he falls in love with you, he’ll decide not to leave.”

A soft scuffing sound near the door sent hope fluttering through Annalisa. Was he back already?

But when she glanced up to the sight of a strange man standing in the doorway, she sat straighter and quickly pulled the sheet over herself and the baby.

“Frau Werner?” The man peered over his shoulder in the direction of the barn before squinting into the dim interior of the cabin.

Was this Dirk? Had her groom finally arrived? A wave of disappointment crashed against her, leaving her breathless, almost as if she were drowning.

She’d known he was due to arrive anytime. She’d just been hoping . . .

What had she hoped? Had she really been foolish enough to think Dirk wouldn’t come and that she could have Carl instead?

Annalisa couldn’t get her voice to work.

“Frau Werner?” the man said again, but his accent was decidedly English.

She took a closer look at the man’s face and the sawdust covering his hat and wide shoulders. Had she seen him before? Was there something about him vaguely familiar?

Again he glanced over his shoulder before narrowing his eyes upon her. “Ward told me to give you a message.” His words were half Deutsch and half English, but she was able to understand him.

And suddenly she knew who he was—the manager of Ward’s Forestville sawmill. She’d seen him on occasion when she’d gone to town but had never had the need to speak with him or seek him out.

She wasn’t sure if she should feel relief that he wasn’t Dirk or fear that he worked for Ward.

“Ward wants to thank you”—the man continued in terrible
Deutsch and English combined—“for taking good care of his land.”

Before Annalisa could make sense of the words, the man tipped the brim of his hat and sauntered away.

Thank her for taking good care of his land?
His
land?

She stared at the emptiness of the doorway, at the bright morning sunshine and the clear blue sky beyond. Already she was warm from the heat of the day, but a cold shiver slithered up her backbone.

Apparently Ward still had his sights set on building his mill on
her
land.

The shiver crawled up to the back of her neck.

She wanted to drag herself out of bed, chase after the man, and tell him the land wasn’t Ward’s and never would be. But what good would that do? Her words wouldn’t mean anything to him.

She’d just have to show Ward she was serious, that he wouldn’t be able to intimidate her.

If only Carl hadn’t left. If only he’d been there to defend her in that way he sometimes had about him.

An angry squeal came from the barn.

Annalisa sat forward.

The sow. Her squeals echoed in the morning air, the unmistakable sign that something was threatening her piglets.

Had the bear returned?

The sow was especially vicious now that she was protecting her piglets. She didn’t mind when they admired the piglets from a distance. In fact, she’d flop to her side, twist up her belly, and invite her piglets with loud grunts to come and eat almost as if she were putting on a show for the bystanders.

But the mother pig would open her jaws wide and show her sharp teeth if anyone got too close. She could mangle a hand or arm in one bite if she felt her babies were threatened.

Why was the bear bothering the pig this time of year when the surrounding woodland was full of berries and the river abounding with fish? The attack was understandable in the spring when the wild creatures were still struggling to find enough to eat. But such an attack today made no sense.

No sense whatsoever.

With a moan Annalisa pushed herself up from the bed. Shuffling like a crippled oma, she made her way to the doorway.

Carl was nowhere in sight. And neither was Ward’s sawmill manager. Yet the barn door was open a crack.

She strained to hear anything beyond the sow’s angry squeals.

The bang of a gunshot reverberated through the air from the direction of the barn. Her muscles tensed, and for a long moment she didn’t move.

Then she saw a waft of smoke rising from the roof of the barn. She stared at it, trying to make sense of the thin gray stream that rose against the bright blue summer sky.

What was it? A fire?

The gray puffs coming from the roof began growing into large clouds.

“Carl?” Her heartbeat slammed against her chest.

Old Red’s distressed neigh was the only answer she received. She stepped outside, knowing it was much too soon for her to be out of bed, but she had to do something. Her barn might be on fire.