MB02 - A Noble Groom (35 page)

Eleanor glanced at her father for his direction.

Quickly Carl bent and placed a kiss on Sophie’s head, before Eleanor could take her away from him. “Good-bye, my little princess.”

Then he pulled his finger out of her grip and stepped away, leaving part of his heart with her.

He tossed one more nod to Annalisa, but she lowered her head and refused to look at him.

Pain ricocheted through his chest. But he did the only thing he could do. He turned and walked away.

Annalisa sat on the ground and rocked back and forth with Gretchen. She cradled the girl and stroked her hair. Even though Gretchen’s sobs had subsided, Annalisa couldn’t imagine that the agony would ever go away.

She leaned her head against the scratchy bark of a tree and let the gusting wind lift the loose tendrils away from her face.

The men had finished their Sunday dinner. For a while all they’d talked about was Carl and how different he’d been and how they should have known he wasn’t one of their kind. And of course Dirk had shared every last incriminating detail he knew about Carl’s past—everything from shirking his duty in the Franco-Prussian War after sustaining an injury to running
away from England after one of the lords there had accused him of sleeping with his wife.

When they’d finally exhausted the conversation about Carl and Baron von Reichart and what horrible men they were, Vater had gone back to discussing the weather and the wildfires.

Annalisa brushed her fingers across Gretchen’s flushed cheeks. The girl’s eyes had begun to droop with weariness. Annalisa had been putting off the walk back to her farm. As much as she tried to tell herself she was taking full advantage of the day of rest, she knew the real reason she hadn’t left was because they would have to walk home alone—without Carl.

He’d always walked them back to the farm, every time, no matter how late and no matter how tired he was. And he’d always given Gretchen a horsey ride.

How could they make the trip home again without thinking about him and missing him?

Fresh anguish seeped through her, tightening her muscles, making her want to cry. Why had he lied to them? How could he have lived with them these past months, knowing how much the baron had hurt their family, knowing it was because of the baron that they’d left everything to move to America?

She traced her fingers across the trail the tears had made down Gretchen’s dusty cheeks.

Why hadn’t he just told them the truth about who he was?

But even as the question bombarded her, as it had countless times since he’d admitted who he really was, the shame burning in her stomach was her answer. They would have treated him with the same scorn and revulsion they’d heaped upon him that afternoon, and perhaps even more.

She stared at the path he’d taken after grabbing his sack of meager belongings and setting off down the road toward Forestville. She certainly wasn’t watching for him. She didn’t
expect him to return and plead with her to marry him, not after the finality of their parting. And even if he did, she never would marry him.

She couldn’t.

Her gaze flickered to Vater and Dirk at the table in the shade.

Vater could never accept Carl now. Even if he hadn’t been the baron’s son, he was still a nobleman. And in Vater’s eyes that was unforgivable. Besides, how could a nobleman and a peasant woman ever make a life together? They were just too different. He would never be content on a farm, and she would never fit into his world.

Perhaps that was why Carl had been so uncertain about marrying her and returning her love. He’d known there were too many barriers between them.

She gave a long sigh. Well, now she knew too.

Dirk rose from the table and stretched. But then just as quickly he started coughing.

Vater unfolded his limbs from the bench and he turned to face her. “Now there’s nothing stopping you from marrying our cousin.”

Her pulse slowed several paces. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to marry Carl, but that didn’t mean she had to wed Dirk, did it? At least not right away. Couldn’t she wait until she had the chance to know him better?

Dirk straightened and he let his gaze linger on her. Something sparked in his eyes, but then he looked away. Even so, she caught a glimpse of his longing for her and she stifled a shudder.

She couldn’t fault Dirk. So far he’d seemed like a kind and hardworking man. Maybe he would be a better husband than Hans had been.

But the problem was, she didn’t want him.

How could she possibly go through with marrying him? Not
after meeting Carl and experiencing the depths of emotional and physical attraction to him in a way she’d never known existed between a man and woman. How could she possibly lie with a man and let him touch her if she didn’t have a return desire?

And after knowing what it was like to truly and passionately love a man, how could she now settle for a cold, unfeeling marriage?

With another shudder she gently lifted Gretchen. “Time to go, liebchen.” She pushed herself from the ground.

“Maybe I’ll send Uri for Herr Pastor tomorrow evening,” Vater said, “and we can have the ceremony then.”

“Nein.” The word fell out before she could contain it. “I can’t marry Dirk tomorrow. I can’t marry him next Sunday. And maybe not ever.”

“What are you talking about, daughter?” Vater bellowed, making her want to duck her head and shrink down into herself. “Stop speaking like a foolish young girl. You need a husband, and Dirk will make a good one. He will be better than your sister’s husband. We should be grateful for that.” He waved his hand at her as if dismissing her and started toward the barn.

She wanted to call out in protest, but her throat constricted against such defiance. Was she destined for a loveless marriage after all?

But even as she watched Vater stride away, taking all of her hopes with him, Carl’s words came back to her. She wasn’t at the mercy of the men in her life. Didn’t she deserve some choice in whom she should marry and when?

“I won’t marry Dirk this week.” Her voice wavered but was stronger than she expected.

Vater’s footsteps came to an abrupt halt.

She pressed her hand against her chest to still the wild thumping.

Slowly he turned and his eyes narrowed.

Behind her, Dirk coughed, and the wind rattled the brittle branches, threatening to break them into kindling.

Under Vater’s gaze everything within her body urged her to submit, to give in—just as she’d always done. But there was something whispering through her blood, as if Carl’s words were alive inside her, giving her a new strength.

“I want to get to know Dirk first”—the words came out haltingly—“before I decide whether I want to marry him.”

“Decide?” Vater’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s to decide?”

Gretchen’s hand slipped into hers. The warmth of her fingers curling around gave her the courage she needed to go on. If she didn’t take the first step forward in becoming a stronger woman, how could she give Gretchen and Sophie the strength to have a better life?

“I’m grateful for your help and advice.” She took a shaky breath. “But I’d like to have the final word on who I marry.”

Vater stared at her for a long moment, searching her face. He took off his hat and scratched his head. “If you don’t have Dirk’s help with the rest of your harvest, you’ll lose the farm.”

“I might lose it anyway.” She had no illusions that her corn crop would bring in the rest of the money she would need to pay the loan. Perhaps if she added the pittance she’d saved in her crock under the bed . . .

She hadn’t wanted to consider dipping into her precious savings for her daughters. But even if she used every last penny and sold her pigs instead of slaughtering them, she’d likely still not have enough.

“If you lose it,” Vater said, “then at least you’ll have Dirk to take care of you.”

From the seriousness in Vater’s face, she knew he only wanted to make sure she was well taken care of. How could she resist his good intentions? And yet everything in her rebelled at the
thought of marrying Dirk—at least so soon. “I just want to wait to get to know Dirk before I marry him.”

“What’s there to know? He’s our family, one of us. He’s a good man, which I can’t say about the lying, deceiving baron’s son.”

She wanted to say something in Carl’s defense. Even if he had lied to them, he was a good man. There was no denying his kindness and generosity. He’d worked for her all summer without a mention of repayment. Of course, they’d given him his room and board and sheltered him during his time of need. But she wouldn’t have been able to find another man to do the work Carl had done without paying him a fair wage.

“Besides,” Vater continued, “the sooner you have a husband, the safer you’ll be. If you’re alone, Ward will think he can bully you.”

She shuddered to think Ward might return and try to force her to sign the deed over to him. She wouldn’t have Carl around to rescue her this time.

But would marrying Dirk keep her safe? “I don’t think any of us are safe from Ward. We all saw what he did to Hans.”

Uri, who had been whittling while seated on a branch up in the maple, tossed down the half-shaved stick and jumped to the ground. He stuck his hands into his pockets and muttered under his breath.

The wind pushed at Annalisa and whipped her skirt. Its strong hand urged her to move away from Dirk, to let it direct her where it would.

Vater glanced off into the distance as if weighing all the words she’d spoken.

For a moment she allowed herself a spark of hope that perhaps he would consider her concerns and validate her needs as a woman.

“Nein,” he finally said, shaking his head. “Nein. You must marry Dirk. We’ll send Uri for Herr Pastor tomorrow and have the wedding in the evening after we’re done with the day’s work.”

Her heart crashed with the same clatter as a bucket at the bottom of a dry well.

Without another word, Vater turned and crossed toward the barn.

She couldn’t find the words to stop him and contradict him. Her hands shook, and Gretchen’s fingers wrapped around hers tightly. She squeezed back.

How could she marry Dirk? Especially when she was still so completely in love with someone else . . .

No matter how much Carl had hurt and deceived them, she hated to admit it but she still loved him. It didn’t matter that she would never see him again, that they were worlds apart and separated forever.

She still loved him.

And she didn’t know how she’d ever be able to love anyone else.

Chapter
19

Carl stepped out of Jacob Buel’s lumber mill and jingled the coins in his pocket—all that was left of the money Matthias had sent him. The meager amount would pay his steamship fare to Detroit, but after that he’d be on his own.

On his own.

The thought made him pause and tremble just a little. He’d never really had to make his own way before—not without help, not without his father’s money, not without his family’s influence to hold him in good stead.

But after a night on his knees in prayer and with a great deal of soul-searching, he knew he was doing the right thing. For once, he needed to start living his life without looking to his father or Matthias to bail him out of trouble.

He’d somehow find a way to earn the fare he’d need to get to Chicago and to his friend Fritz and the work there.

He glanced to the wide endless water of Lake Huron and took a deep breath. Throughout the morning the scent of smoke had grown stronger—likely from the fires that burned to the
west—so that now he couldn’t catch the usual scents of wet sand and sea grass that lingered in the air around Forestville. Strangely the lake’s edge was silent of the usual sea-gull cries. In fact, there weren’t any of the birds as far as he could see.

Dockhands were loading the
Clayton Belle
and readying her for the return trip to Detroit. She sank low in the water, heavy with the harvest from local farmers.

Carl was tempted to walk over to the workers, lift one of the coarse bags they were slinging across their shoulders, and ask them if they knew how much of his sweat covered the grain, if they realized just how much energy and hard work had gone into producing each bag.

And yet how could the dockhands know?

He’d never known the extent of labor and sweat that men exerted to work the earth and bring about the grain of life. Not until he’d had to do the work for himself had he come to understand the effort required.

But he’d also begun to realize the satisfaction that came after swinging a scythe all day and looking back over the cut field, at the swathes lying on the ground drying. Or the bare meadow after all the hay had been cleared.

With farming, the progress was tangible. Even if the work was never-ending, he’d always been able to take stock of how much he’d accomplished and how far he still had to go.

His time in Forestville had helped him to take stock of his life as well. He wasn’t so proud of the man he’d once been. Perhaps in the days to come he’d be able to be a better man.

“Heard what you did for Annalisa Werner,” called one of the old men from the spot of shade in front of Burkhardt’s Meat Market. “Mighty nice of you to pay off her loan like that.”