Ripples Along the Shore (6 page)

Hattie’s giggle overpowered the sound of the shod horse trotting past. “True. It has been about all they’ve talked about in recent months.” She sobered, the lines at her mouth smoothing. “I think about it too. Wonder what it would be like to have a man look at me the way Quaid looks at Emilie … with devotion brimming his eyes.”

Hattie Pemberton was definitely the incurable romantic in the quilting circle.

Outside the door to Heinrich’s Dry Goods and Grocery, Anna glanced at the sack cradled in her arm. “I can’t think about anything but work right now.”

Hattie held the door open. “Life won’t always be this hard for you.”

“No?” Anna wanted to believe it. Some days, like Thursdays and last Saturday, she entertained daydreams of a different life, but most days she dared not allow herself the luxury.

Hattie reached for Anna’s free hand and squeezed it. “God will make a way.”

“For my mother? My grandfather?”

“For you.”

“You are a sweet friend.” Crossing the threshold into the store, Anna breathed in the warmth from the coal-burning stove.

Mr. Heinrich bent beside the checkerboard barrel with the Rengler brothers. At the sound of the doorbell, he looked their way. Doffing his top hat, he joined them at the counter. “Ladies.”

“Good day, Mr. Heinrich.”

Their words came out in unison.

“Good to see you both.” He pushed his spectacles to the bridge of his nose.

“Mother sent me to look at cloth.”

“Got in new patterns.” He nodded toward the bolts of fabric.

“I’ll take a look.” Hattie strolled that direction.

Mr. Heinrich looked at the sack Anna carried. “I hope you’ve brought more of your bayberry and beeswax candles.”

“I have.” Anna had a feeling the man would cheerfully accept candles from her even if he had a storeroom full. She spread three dozen merry-colored candles on the countertop.

“You are a hard worker, Miss Anna.”

“Thank you, sir.” Anna smoothed her sack on the counter. Her hand hesitated at the redwork embroidery Mutter had done before Dedrick died:
Gleich und gleich gesellt sich gern
. It was a saying her brother was fond of: “Birds of a feather flock together.” She’d made the sack for him, and it was one of the few belongings the army returned.

Mr. Heinrich pulled the money box out from under the shelf. “Your grandfather? How is he?”

“About the same.”

“No need of another hank o’ caning yet then?”

She folded the sack and looked up. “No, thank you. He has enough to finish the chairs he has.”

“Don’t imagine your mother is feelin’ any better either?”

Anna shook her head.

“I’m sorry.” He counted out payment for the candles and handed her the bills.

Anna tucked the money deep into her seam pocket and sealed it with the sack. “You and Emilie have been a tremendous help to us, Mr. Heinrich. I can’t thank you enough for the work.”

“We’re happy to help. I grow weary feeling powerless to help those I care about.”

When tears stung Anna’s eyes, she looked away.

Mr. Heinrich returned the cashbox to its nesting place beneath the counter. “You know the Rengler brothers.” He glanced toward the checkerboard and the men gathered there.

“Yes.” She knew they’d lost their freight boat in an explosion last fall. They’d been driving wagons for the McFarlands.

“They’re joining the caravan going west this spring. The Kamdens and the Brenners are buying wagons to go too.” He rubbed his clean-shaven jaw. “Maybe your grandfather should think about it.”

When he won’t even leave the house?

“Might be good for him, Anna, and for your mutter.”

If Großvater couldn’t muster the energy to cane chairs, how was she to expect him to cross the country by wagon? And then there was Mutter.

“There’s a meeting at The Western House Inn next Tuesday, thirteenth of February. Half past six, I believe. Flier’s pinned at the post office.”

“I’ll think about it.” Anna hoped her answer didn’t sound as halfhearted to him as it did to her. “I best get back. Thank you again, Mr. Heinrich. Give my best to Emilie and Quaid.”

“And you carry my regards to your family.”

Family. Will we ever feel like a family again, Lord?

Hattie walked toward her holding a bolt of cloth in each hand.

Anna smiled, glancing toward the door. “However will you decide? I like them both.”

“I do too.” Hattie sighed, blowing a brown curl on her forehead. “Do you have to go?”

“Yes. But I’ll see you soon.” After waving good-bye, Anna stepped outside to go home to fix the noon dinner. If her mother was awake to care about eating.

The more Anna thought about going west, the more the idea of wide-open spaces and new opportunities intrigued her. But the building excitement collided with caution. Großvater’s house was full of chairs they couldn’t sit on. Chairs that belonged to his paying customers. Many of whom had been waiting a long time for new seats. He’d been doing a quarter of the work he’d done before falling sick with grief. Raising her hopes over a trip she’d never make wasn’t good sense.

Anna started up the hill. She spent her walk talking to God about Mutter and Großvater, a familiar topic, although this time she added a few questions about the trail west. By the
time she reached the gingerbread-enrobed house, third from the end, Anna had mustered the courage to talk to Großvater. Her elder or not, he owed her the courtesy of hearing her out. And if Mutter was anywhere in the vicinity of sober, Anna had a few things to talk over with her as well.

Squaring her shoulders, Anna climbed the porch steps. She left her muddy boots outside and closed the door behind her. Großvater’s voice, uncharacteristically cheerful, carried from the kitchen. A second male voice sounded vaguely familiar …

Robert? After all these years?

She quickened her steps through the empty dining room.

The moment Anna darkened the doorway, Robert Hughes jumped to his feet, leaving his hat on the kitchen table.

“Annabana—” He glanced at Großvater and quickly cleared his throat. “Miss Anna.”

“Robert.” The boy fond of dunking her braids into the inkwell in their one-room schoolhouse.

“Remember? My friends call me Boney.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. She nodded, recalling the day her brother gave his friend that moniker.

His gaze tender, the now grown-up Boney took short steps toward her. “I’ve been in Saint Louis since the war. Just moved back to Saint Charles and came to pay my respects.”

Großvater pulled a third chair from the table. “It’s mighty good to see him, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Though she spoke to Großvater, Anna kept her gaze fixed on Boney. “You heard about Dedrick?”

His blue eyes glistened. “I saw his name listed among the state casualties in the
St. Louis Dispatch
. I knew he would be the brave one.” He shifted his weight and held out his hand to her. “I’m truly sorry about your loss, Anna. I was mighty fond of Dedrick.”

She nodded, and he let go of her hand. “You were a good friend to him.”

“What’s all the racket?” Mutter dragged into the kitchen. One hand cradled her head while the other trailed the wall.

Anna pasted on a smile. “Mutter, you remember Robert Hughes, don’t you?”

Leaning on the corner of the cupboard, Mutter brushed unruly hair from her bloodshot eyes. “Dedrick’s friend?”

“Yes. He’s moved back to town.”

Mutter scowled, pulling her dressing gown tight at her waist. “Why didn’t you tell me we had company?”

“I apologize if I disturbed you, Mrs. Goben.”

Mutter waved a shaky hand. “Don’t be silly. I was feeling a little ill this morning, is all.”

Boney held his arm out to Mutter, and she accepted his escort to a chair at the table.

“Thank you.”

Großvater was ready with a stout cup of coffee, nearly strong enough to overpower the stench of the previous night’s rum on her breath.

“I’m feeling much better now that you’re here.”

While Mutter dominated the conversation, Anna busied herself at the cutting board, chopping potatoes for their dinner. So much for her reunion with Boney Hughes, the only other person who understood how much she’d lost when her brother died.

Seven

C
aroline followed Jewell up the narrow porch steps of Emilie and Quaid McFarland’s home on Monday. The newlywed couple had moved into a small cottage up the street from his father’s freight company. Gingham curtains the color of sunshine hung in the front window.

Jewell had just raised her hand to knock when the door swung open.

“Welcome to my new home.” Emilie’s brown eyes sparkled with a pride that made Caroline’s heart ache.

Jewell drew her hand back to her side. “You must have been peeking out the window.”

“A little too anxious, I suppose.” Blushing, Emilie pushed a strand of dark brown hair into the loose bun at her neck. “Please, do come in.”

Just inside, Jewell sighed and removed her cape. “I’m sorry we’re the last to arrive.”

As usual, Jack had been hesitant to let Jewell leave. Caroline had stood up to him, causing a ruckus just before Mrs. Brantenberg arrived to gather the children. Their two newlywed friends were hosting a feast of celebration, and she and Jewell were sorely in need of the pick-me-up the gathering promised.

Emilie was closing the door behind them when Maren, Hattie, and Anna rushed out of the kitchen.

Maren—now Mrs. Rutherford Wainwright—reached for Jewell first, then embraced Caroline. “Thank you for coming. We’re glad you’re here.”

The others each greeted them with an embrace, reminding Caroline of her first visit to Mrs. Brantenberg’s quilting circle last year. The older widow had said hugs were a woman’s way of drawing others into her circle of friends.

Nearly an hour later, Caroline sat at a dining table with her friends. She sank her fork into one of Emilie’s applesauce brownies and happily crunched on a walnut in the sweet topping. And this delight, after eating delectable bacon popovers and a generous bowl of soup with pork ribs and potatoes. She and Jewell did their best to provide tasty foods for Jack and the children but hadn’t the funds to fix such a fine meal. Trying not to lick her lips with each succulent bite, Caroline shifted her thoughts to Anna.

Whenever Caroline became overwhelmed by her life, she would think of Anna Goben. Just turned eighteen, and already she carried a burden of grief and the task of providing for her family.

Swallowing a sip of coffee, Anna lowered her cup to its saucer. “When I was in the store last week”—Anna looked across the table at Emilie—“your father told me about a wagon caravan meeting tomorrow evening.”

“He did?”

Anna nodded. “Yes. He thinks the trip may be good for us.”

Caroline stopped chewing, her hearing perked.

Emilie raised an eyebrow. “I think PaPa would secretly like to go west. Hardly an evening goes by that he doesn’t regale me with talk of the Rengler brothers’ plans to join the train of wagons.” She looked at Anna. “Are you interested in going?”

“I talked to my grandfather about it.”

“And?” Hattie swirled her hand as if to pull more information out of her.

That’s when Caroline realized that her curiosity had scooted her to the chair’s edge.

“Grandfather told me my mother would never be able to make the trip. Wasn’t sure he could, either.”

“Charles and I will be at that meeting.” Hattie brushed the brim of her unusually petite hat. “My brother has already caught the scent of California land.”

“Rutherford plans to go to the meeting. Mother Brantenberg isn’t yet convinced, but my husband is hearing a call to adventure.”

“Most likely, Mr. Cowlishaw’s voice.” Caroline reached for her coffee cup. “The grand trek across the country is probably all you hear about with him living on the farm.”

“It’s true, although Rutherford said he and Gretchen had talked about going west ten years ago.” Maren smiled. “I’m sure that Garrett, being the leader of the caravan, has given him a push that direction.”

Anna straightened in her chair. “Robert Hughes is back in Saint Charles. He came to the house.”

“Mother and I saw him at the post office yesterday.” Hattie tilted her head in rhythm with the lilt in her voice.

Anna’s eyes narrowed as if she, too, had detected the syrup in Hattie’s tone.

“He told Mother he’s planning to make the trip.”

“Yes, I heard him tell my grandfather as much.”

“I’ve heard about appeals for teachers to go to towns in gold and silver mining country, and several for the cities in the great valley and even San Francisco itself.” Leaning toward her, Hattie whispered directly into Caroline’s face. “Seems I remember you telling us at the circle that you were once a schoolteacher.”

“I was.” Before she married.

And, now that she was single again, the profession might be her ticket to a new life. In California.

Garrett stood at the counter chatting with Johann Heinrich.

“Mr. Garrett Cowlishaw?”

Startled, he turned toward the self-assured voice. He’d seen twigs with more meat on them than was on this young man.